Paper Cut Hearts

The first time I saw you in the crowd of superstar fakers
It changed me like the wind on a cloudy winter’s day
Surrounded by hypocrites and sugar money takers
And white powder lined up on a polished silver tray
The taste of their sting had an edge of sweet about it
Permeated with the arrogance of the permanently vain
Watching them light candles which were already lit
Drinking shots of liquor and glasses of pink champagne
You hold no memory of the night I saw you there
Suffocated by the crowd seeking false attention
Blinded by the night and blissfully unaware
Of the sycophants around you seeking quick redemption
From the sickening selfishness tainting their point of view
Turning artificial sincerity into pure works of art
Their morality distorted and priorities askew
Hanging between the lines of their paper cut hearts.