Beautiful people with glasses filled right to the brim with poisonous happiness. Warm guns and red lips, urging kisses to happen, to rise and fall. Hearts flickering on and off and dazed and confused, we'll drink to that. Rose coloured pupils because glasses didn't go with the outfit, switching lanes that you've out fitted. After life is nothing but a promise and in the scene the warm feeling of sugared cups now rests in a place just above your mind, digging its way into beautiful things, scared for your life but too high to run. Salted ambitions and feverish times. Sleeping beauty's dead and the prince is no where to be found. Awake in the morning to the mess you've caused, in all your scandalous apparel. Affairs with the devil, rising like a body count and you're snatching souls like its going out of fashion, style crashing down on all your senses, comb your horrific hair, a disaster that surely deserves another glass..
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