On my yawning it bursts into flame, snow falls at noon.
To go numb, by match no selling, setting it fire.
Of flesh-colored, crayons in the name, 14 or 15 there are.
Eyebrow to wipe off, in this morning, how quiet it is.
In Hollywood, jewels on her navel, to pick on. Or, To Hollywood, just the jewels, to pick up.