Norma Jean

Walk around the room with a glaze in your stare.
In your tuxedo suit.
I will give it a name.
Lower your defenses.
Lower your casket.
Open the door and open your grave.
Murder.
Now youre doing the waltz with your murderer.
Mediocrity is the killer.
You find yourself helpless.
Christ is not a fashoin, fleeting away.
He laid emeralds in her eyes,
But Id already tried a bracelt made of gold