You say I’m a bitch like it’s a bad thing


I just want to go out and stay up late
Camp in Black Rock, alive and awake.
Get as witty as art, yet vain like a doll
Feels free to own nothing, nothing at all.

There are no rules, but one: to party we live,
No sweeter reward then the lust we receive.
The great fall, as they should, in flames and their glory
But there’s at least one of us who’s sick and so sorry.

She’s quiet and calm, a bit colder than ice,
Praising herself on how she is nice.
Her lips kiss just gold, despising the glitter
It kills all the fun, becomes bitter and bitter.

You made up a world where no girl can be king
Still, you say I’m a bitch like it’s a bad thing.


You’ve just seen beautiful Olivia at the Burning Man festival.

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