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I read you clean, between the lines
how beautiful your picture is

but pictures lie, I know sometimes
and words and eyes and souls and lips

how beautiful they seem (they seem)
hey is that picture really you?

I guess it could be someone else
how would I know? For real and true

I'm filling all your details in
if you won't tell, they're mine to spill

I can't be sure, but I can spin
the story you won't tell, I will

a tale or two to flesh you out
with grinning teeth and blushing skin

a mind without a spot of doubt
invents a box, and stuffs you in