I kissed the prince of this world.
I didn’t like it.
The problem was his lips. They were as dry as leaves in autumn right before autumn leaves.
The problem was his lips. They weren’t honest when they should have been.
And if I‘m honest, honest when I have to be, he had no lips. Not really.
His words I hear coming from his eyes.
Prince by right, a kisser by choice.
He kissed a commoner and a communist.
He didn’t like it.
The problem is that he liked it far more than he should have.
The problem is that now he’s expecting a round of applause for forgetting me again.
I kissed the prince of this world.
Congratulations, congratulations.
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