Pretty, perfect, painted people striving to attain beauty.
Carefully apply that makeup, girl,
Don’t want anyone seeing through your mask, your facade.
No telling what would happen if someone saw the real you.
But I know, I know.
I know that the real you is full of discontent with your flaws!
Even the slightest blemish fills your spirit with fear of rejection.
So you find yourself full of hate and self-medicate with the next new product.
The next new thing’s gotta work right?
Keep applying that lipstick extra thick
because if those smoky eyes won’t get him, you can seduce him with your lips;
A sticky marriage of wine and cosmetics is called sophisticated in higher social order,
But the same combination on the streets is called a tramp.
Don’t cheapen yourself in the name of Beauty!
You’re worth so much more than that.
O, pretty, perfect, painted people,
You have no sense!
Like a ring in the pig’s snout you adorn what cannot be made beautiful from the outside.
But if only you could see what Jesus sees on the inside.
Then you will find peace.
Then you sill find security.
And your pretty, perfect, painted facade will vanish like shadows in sunlight.
Pure, perfect spirit will remain.