Look at her, walking through the house in her lace. Making you lust over every single look, she’s the kind of girl you brag about to your friends, she’s a trophy you mount high up on the shelf but really, she doesn’t belong to anyone but herself. Sure, she’s here now, but she floats through the breeze with ease, carefree. She leaves, in search of what she needs.. Baby we’re just playing house, just cause it feels good. (Active Child).