| Flattered that you think I warrant ugliness.
|
| Gutters drain west, mud made a mess of us.
|
| It’s time to leave this place.
|
| I’d saw through your wrist to find a better trap that fits.
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| I’d saw through your traps to find a better you.
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| A part of you that lasts.
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| I saw through your trap and into my own wrists.
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| Saw we were through, red ribbons spill to blue:
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| A sight to sore your eyes.
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| I got this dress.
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| I’m hiking it around this waste of laughter.
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| Slow dance alone with no one to the sound of four hands clapping.
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| Congratulations to you both, I hope you’re somewhere happy.
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| If there’s a moral to this story then I wish you’d show me.
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| Hair in the blood, fly in the disappointment.
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| Rubber, I’m glue.
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| I’ll write the book on you.
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| It’s sticking to my face.
|
| You need a little less than what you take for granted.
|
| This is the sip that’s drinking back from you,
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| Blacking out your eyes.
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| You need a little more suppression of you appetites.
|
| This is your honeymoon, in separate rooms,
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| It’s neither sweet nor bright.
|
| I made a word to give this state a name, this game a guess.
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| I call it «sluttering.»
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| It means as little as your little test.
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| You are your worst revenge.
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| Your very means, they have no ends.
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| This is a story you won’t tell the kids we’ll never have.
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| If you hear this song a hundred times it still won’t be enough. |