You slide out at night to show yourself
you mean to hang yourself on the wall
with the hems you call your friends.
You've memorized a thousand lines and
kissed a thousand guys but none packed
more than wood.
And still you wake up, the taste of the
night before has grown somehow. You
take off your makeup, you're free from
their eyes and all they laugh about.
Sailboats that never float and lids of lead
that hold your ego down. What's it take
to bend the lens? Well as you can see I
really know but I can't amend the trend
towards the rocks wielding the knives
beneath your breast and all the the waves
that never break within our sight. So come on
treat me right.
If you could keep him you'd dub him
"The rock what aced 'em two to one"
but the powder from your empty boxes
was ground from your whole empty youth.
And so you woke up, the taste of the
night before has grown somehow. You
take off your makeup, and you're free
from their eyes and all they laugh about.