Rouge Letra

and it morphs to a shape not unlike a face.
it is the ghost that has haunted my ancestry.

watch as the audience reflect my immelmanns in bright baby blues.
hold on now, what's going on while the wingwalker's gone?
will you get to the show with your dancing shoes on?
you're too old for the ride.
hold on now, my pugachev's the best,
and you'll break your damn hip
or you'll crush your skull on the ground
shattering like porcelain your grandfather bought for his
lovely wife on the day she turned twenty-eight.
the mirror had so often said to her
"put some rouge on those cheeks
you've got a lot of glowing to do."