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Lipstick, a face mask.The shaved calves and forearms.
Shaved to bone.The seams lined, a fox fur.
On high heels, the shape matter.Topped with a swan feather.

But she lives in man.Althought she´s radical.

A painting, a flower.It´s rather a bit harder.
Report is radical.She´s shaking her bones.
As if she was a dancer.
Without a way, as any other day.
It´s just another day.

But she lives in man.
Althought she´s radical.
The clothes won´t make herself a person.

Chained her feelings tight in a firm core.
Sold the trust in tales for a firm core.
Thin lips, squeezed jaws.
The trained flirt, the game slows.
Then late note.She´s shaking the bones.
Yet the life´s so cruel.
She´s shaking the bones.
Thought, she´d make it through she´d make it trought.

But she lives in man.
Althought she´s radical.
The clothes won´t make herself a person.
But she lives in man.
Althought she´s radical.