Mannequins.

You're not even real.
You're a page in a book, you're a scene in a photograph.
Changing costume every hour, of every day, living life at twenty four frames per second.

You're not real.
You're a congregation of other people's ideas.

You're a confirmation of all your own worst fears.

And when no one yells CUT just what are you going to do?
They say the whole world is a stage, I guess you must think it's true.
But does it fuck you up to think that the curtain's calling soon?
You've been read cover to cover too, and this is our overall review.

You're not real, you're just a collection of stolen trends.
You're not real, you're just tied together loose ends.
You're a congregation of bad ideas.
This is a confirmation of all you've feared.
You're not real.
So how could we ever be friends?