Pink Pea

Pink pea made of bliss
Dyed it red for a thrill.
And my bubbleheart, I turned it glossy,
And the perfume samples in my magazine
Are all empty.
When you turn the pages of my fears,
The headline reads, "What a strange lady."
She was once Queen Mary,
Now she's in a state of bliss.
And she still waits for a win.
I used to tear the pages in tears,
Now I think maybe there's still a spritz left of it,
From the perfume samples, I mean.
Middle notes are sweet peas,
Made of bliss,
Turned bitter for a thrill.