Another stars grace stumbles through the atmosphere,
As she tears through the darkness of the blistering night.
Her torn and tattered skirt hides nothing but truth;
She is her own broken tourniquet.
Her past flashes by like an old broken record
With the precise re-runs of her cliche life
And along her false painted cheeks
Lies the tarnished black mascara smearing her poise.
Falling upon her black and blue knees
She sees nothing but darkness heading her way,
Her lushes pink lips are trembling with fear;
With her fears coming to haunt her, to rip her apart.
She is her own broken tourniquet
Her torn and tatted skirt hides nothing but truth;
As she tears through the darkness of the blistering night
Another stars grace stumbles through the atmosphere.
