Viernes 21 Sep 2007, 16:52
I've been pulling down spanish for years.
cotton barely covers the holes that have grown.
i'm used to being replaced.
i've got an expiration date
and a timebomb tied to the ends of my eye lashes.
my market value commits suicide everytime
i lose a boy to the same mistake.
serial killers, and the taste of lime on your lips.
blood crumbs and whispering prayers to Mother Mary.
I keep trying to remind myself to fall on my
knees and remember that Jesus died for me.
But i can't seem to find a minute to care.
The only men that i could depend on were
Jack, Gin, and Jimmy.
And if you break their bottle, you don't break their rules.
So no fires of hell just an acoustic guitar god
with a voice that sends me into shock.
What was it?
Your mouth
Your mouth
Your mouth
started the fire that ignited my needle stick fingers. there isn't a spot on my body that doesn't burn with the touch of you.
(i want to give up and be amazing. i wish i were a self-cleaning oven)
EDIT:
i see no difference in giving road head and new jersey.
"I see no difference in solitude and romance."
& you wonder where this tattoo comes from.
or where the scars on my arms have sprung from, or where they new ones on my body have come from.
No, i get it. You don't.
You're the liar.
And you have to be to fall in love with me.
You have to lie to yourself.
You have to tell yourself something else.
You have to take all these steps.
can you blame me for having a drinking problem?