does the camera steal the soul?
do teenage boys steal cars?
is the catwalk sponsored by gestapo?
do models frame the sky like skinny prison bars?
their smiles leak a bitter gas
they wash their hair in bottled tears,
they say they're sick of being followed
but they're the stalkers in the shadows of our fears
beatified by zombies
they soar on vampires' wings,
public enemy, private hell
jerks jerk their strings
- the usual suspects skulk behind the fragrance and the skirt,
investors and their dobermen growling in the dirt
it's a bum deal at the arse end of art,
nobody cares what's in her,
tough shit for the also-rans and track marks for the winners
they can't keep up with the 12 year olds,
they can't keep down their dinners
public enemy, private hell,
sinned against and sinner
