I bet they write to you in August
when the heat becomes too real,
all those sloppy boys who bother you,
they're all just looking for a feel.

But it's never plain as day or easy jeans
no you're flirting with hard to get.
Hence why the moon appears almost every year,
she must owe you some great debt.

Yet with an overture of valences,
we're really balancing ourselves,
rocking back-and-forth on bloody tip-toes,
her image rots our brains to hell.

So with interest rates and glitter belts
always sticking to my mind,
I find that finding what I'm looking for,
is much easier when I'm blind.

I drive my car into your livingroom
just to watch you roll your eyes,
the same dead relatives fall off the staircase
and I still wonder why you try.

Let's stop pretending you're so satisfied
with your self-sufficient touch.
I'm always present beneath the floorboards dear,
I suppose I care too much.

So don't sliver up to me in closet space
or wink me to your room,
I'd soon rather be lost in space
than stuck inside your gloom.

12/02/2010