Lipstick to match, in the pupils - neon,

She enters as if into her throne.

Aesthetics - her armor,

She doesn't need your fuss.

Cold look, key in your pocket,

She is among gray everyday life - a ray,

But this ray is not for love,

Only catch her rules.

(Pripram)

She dances, looking at the floor,

This whole bar is her throne.

She is the ego, she is the law,

The phone sounds from the screen,

But it has been blocked for a long time,

She doesn't care about this drama.

(Chorus)

Aesthetics is her game,

She dances into the morning.