She won't come, she's been torn apart by dogs, skinheads with rebar, the treacherous ice broke. Her hands were not prepared for a fight, And she didn't want to win, I'll be in her place now. She's floating in formalin, imperfect lines, moving gradually. I've got her face, her name, the sweater's the same blue, No one noticed the switch. She won't come - her hands were in a snake hole, My head in a wasp's nest and my back in an ant pile. I'll be me - I'm made of sturdier dough, I'm worthy to take this place, I do a lot of things better. I must be playing something wrong, I don't know who these people are, I'm smiling a little weird They'll suspect I'm not her, I'm someone else I don't know what will happen then, I'll pretend to be sick or drunk. She floats in formaldehyde, moving gradually, In a murky white fog. I've got her face, her name, no one noticed the switch, Checking the keys in my pocket.
Parameters used to generate this content
(deformed, distorted, disfigured:1.3), poorly drawn, bad anatomy, wrong anatomy, extra limb, missing limb, floating limbs, (mutated hands and fingers:1.4), disconnected limbs, mutation, mutated, ugly, disgusting, blurry, amputation, (long deformed neck),(watermark, signature, text font, username, error, logo, words, letters, digits, autograph, trademark, name:1.2),
AI models used to generate this content