Every word is part of a picture. Every sentence is a picture.
On golden wings
She flies at night
With her dress.
It's blinding white
Countless diamonds
And her long blond hair.
The queen is coming
So you better be aware.
Her plums and flowers
They're never the same
Blue and silver,
It's all her game.
Flying dragons
And enchanted woods,
She decides, she creates
It's her reality.
I look into the mirror
See myself, I'm over me
I need space for my desires
Have to dive into my fantasies
Pathological liars usually have a pattern, starting from the truth and embellishing it, rather than indulging in complete fancy.
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