"Your tactile eyes is running over glossy paper,
Printed on with tactile lies of glaze and gause.
They say, "Forget yourself, adorn with this disguise",
This womanhood of smooth and tampered whores.
Let me warn you of their cold sensitivity,
They'll have you gathered in a trap of glass.
Is your reflection all that you will recognise?"
That cruel lie will stare you in the face.