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. i'd saw through your traps to
find a better you, a part of you that lasts. i saw through your trap and
into my own wrists. saw we were through, red ribbons spill to blue: a
sight to sore your eyes. i got this dress. i'm hiking it around this
waste of laughter. slow dance alone with no one to the sound of four
hands clapping. congratulations to you both, i hope somewhere you're
happy. if there's a moral to this story then i wish you'd show me. hair
in the blood, fly in the disappointment. rubber, i'm glue. i'll write
the book on you. 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, blacking out your eyes. you need a little more suppression of your
appetites. this is your honeymoon, in separate rooms, it's neither sweet
nor bright. i made a word to give this state a name, this game a guess.
i call it "sluttering". it means as little as your little test. you are
your worst revenge. your very means, they have no ends. this is a story
you won't tell the kids we'll never have. if you hear this song a
hundred times it still won't be enough.