So you wanna pick me up?
I'll make up a lie
and we'll hop in your ride
And make awkward conversation on the way back to
We'll lie on your bed and watch tv
All the while pretending not to be
Thinkin what we're thinkin
You'll wanna touch me
And say that you
Put reason on hold as you take off my cloths and promise you wont
But what next?
Your hands in my pants looking for the magic that's supposed to undo me
Find the line that's supposed to make my mind so blank
except for the breath on my neck so you can pass right through me.
But what you don't know is I'm already gone
already fixing on the next fix
To fulfill my disappointment
The next high to get me by the low that comes crashing down around this
Staticed out emotional connection.
Climax doesn't thrill me.
I am not fulfilled by the spill of
your insufficient manhood and
fears of loneliness into me.
I will not be the rag
That wipes the smears of yesterdays
haunting failures off your chin.
I am not a weakness.
A place you can hide your dirty little secrets
To compress the desperation and panic that you feel
Recycled into a face you can keep in public
so I can be kept in your back pocket
always running to where you keep me in the closet
So you can hide
And entwine your body with mine
Til there is no you anymore.
And I was erased
without a face
trying to be what you wanted
so I could always be counted
And have a place to go so I could feel alive
Cuz I'm dead to the world_
And no one cares enough to take it to the next level
And make resuscitation a possibility
What do you want from me?
I have been come on with your
From that face that haunted me
That rejected me
That made me want to prove
there is more to me
Then a body and a strict set of rules
On not to have intimacy
Can't let nobody close to me
Because I can't hurt
If you don't know the real me.
And I am tired of running from me own face in the mirror.
Can't stand to look at me
Can't stand to talk to me
I just wanted resurrection
in the fake connection
That I thought we had.
But rescue is possible.
And it's not found in these stained sheets
Or the 3am phone calls to hide the nagging
of our own self loathing
At what we never wanted to be.
I wont follow you down that road and into that car
Because I know what waits for me
And it is empty.
I can't be that girl
Because I already have been.
And I would rather pick my self inflicted wounds
of all the bitterness
then let you cram your emptiness into me.