Hollywood. Old.
By Hannah Mae Webster
Hollywood. Old.
The stories. The cold.
Behind doors an orchestra of secrets will unfold.
Lip prints. A hold.
Will sparkle then dissolve.
Diamonds lay aimless,
their fates have been told.
Hollywood. Old.
The stories. The cold.
Behind doors an orchestra of secrets will unfold.
Lip prints. A hold.
Will sparkle then dissolve.
Diamonds lay aimless,
their fates have been told.
We need your consent to load the translations
We use a third-party service to translate the website content that may collect data about your activity. Please review the details in the privacy policy and accept the service to view the translations.