Tattooed

Life is like an image tattooed on the sky
by the hand of God,
who is more talented than a dirty ink artist.

My smile is as big as my painted, pained world,
made as fake as the grin of the Cheshire Cat,
by the hand of God.

I guess I could say I love you back.
It is possible to share a false emotion,
made as fake as the grin of the Cheshire Cat.

I traded aloneness for you,
pretended love so you would stay.
It is possible to share a false emotion.

When you are not around I can hide my smile
in the trunk of lies I have filled;
pretended love so you would stay.

I wonder if being without you would be easy to carry forever.
Life is like an image tattooed on the sky,
in the trunk of lies I have filled.
Who is more talented than a dirty ink artist?