Poets Of The Fall - The Game

She’s plastic, she’s speed read, a classic line between the lines Fantastic and half dead, his tactic, blind to warning signs Her clashes of colors are flashes of society In ashes his dollars like posters of a tragic love story See the puppet master laugh, astride a pale horse And take another photograph, for selfie intercourse Reading out the epitaph of our pointless wars For love we will tear us down He’s shooting at shadows, portraying a proper soldier boy She’s thinking, in logos, still searching for the real mccoy Broadcasters, they’ve got this, disasters, a wasp of a satire Like actors who french kiss right after someone stole their fire See the puppet master laugh, astride a pale horse And take another photograph, for selfie intercourse Reading out the epitaph of our pointless wars For love we will tear us Down that beaten path she treads Mirage the blushing bride he weds Yesterday’s diamonds and pearls Now worthless trinkets in their world The salty tang of blood, sensations running hot Snow blindness in pitch darkness, mindless rage And then you see the puppet master laugh And take another photograph See the puppet master laugh, astride a pale horse And take another photograph, for selfie intercourse Reading out the epitaph of our pointless wars When love, love could be our crown