There are hundreds
Of girls in my mirror.
A beautiful Princess
a perfect ballerina
poised on pointe,
her dark hair in a bun
Oh of all there must be, i've only seen about ninty one.
There's a writer,
her brains full of words
and a singer
who can hit the very low chords.
Abeautiful girl, who's smile is winning
and a sporty-type girl, who's always grinning.
There's the reader
and the rider
and the model
and the actress
But the ones I am disturbed to see..
are those same ones..
The princess is inbred
Ballerina? Bulimic
The writers on coke.
and the singer can't hit the high notes
The beautiful girl is a whore
and the sporty one is using steroids
the reader has a malign brain-tumor
and the rider will soon fall off and die-
now isn't that humour?
The model's made of plastic
and the actress fucked her way into the oscars.
Maybe these girls don't scare me as much
as the horrible knowledge
that they're all me.