You were sickened with the vowing of silence. I was taken by your permanent high. Two lovers, are you turned on? How romantic!. Now I need a guillotine to get you off my mind.
Hey, dainty girl flailing on the side of the road. With your great thumb in the air. I hope you don't mind me asking. But what happened to your underwear?.
The studded cinctures were a band. From gloomy Ann harbor, Michigan. And they wrote just for you. These irrelevant tunes. . And with each heart-wrenching, fictitious wail.
Take a seat and catch your breathe. You're only working towards your death. For as the days go by, they go by oh so slow. . But your blonde hair and gaping eyes.
Well, I've had this secret. And I feel it's time that you should know. When I'm in your arms it turns me on. . But I've got a conscience too. And it says my heart's never in tune.
I felt a love of such deafening weight. Dangling from a balustrade of shilly-shally. Overlooking infinity and this ecstasy of you lying next to me. And in a peculiar way you clutched me.
Break it out, just break it out. Don't hesitate, the dialate. What's your name, what do you do. I'm not that kind of man but I'll make an exception for you.
The streets are all violent. With murderous excitement. The hunter and the prey. Are dancing everyday. . That waltzing gibberish. Where intake becomes outlandish.
Such derision when you fled. They bruised your lank shins while you were down. Some kicked the crutches from under your arms. You are one sorry story, a lost cause from conceivement.
You were one step behind. In that dismal school of mine. Needle and percocet. Instead of books on student's desks. . But we were so.. charming. The future was.. alarming.