(no subject)
Little girls who try to grow up fast are seriously the saddest thing. You have to learn to crawl before you can walk. The previous statement has nothing to do with the following poem/song.
So familiar, you're voice in my head
Well baby i think it's time you've gotten fed
The same shit in front of me
You've spoon fed me enough/and I ain't hungry
I've got your scent burned on me like a scar
I've made enough memories to know just how far (and how)
deep they go
I ain't writin' for you anymore
Or at least none of the words that made you who you are (or were)
Sparkle as long as you'd like
But I'm the one who gave you the light
to sparkle in the first place
Don't be mistaken, I miss you like hell
And when vanilla came along, I would sigh from the smell
The way your neck would call my lips to it's side
And the curve of your back could flood my mind
With thoughts of your touch and your voice
But after I met you, I really had no choice
but to love you
I still do
(believe it or not)
But everyday it becomes to me
less than nature, and more futility
Vanilla is becoming a less memorable state
Replaced by bullshit and bullshit's taste
It's sour baby, just like your name
(on my tongue)
Keep up the good work, playing your part
This maudlin play is about to start
The villain has entered, and he's stealin' the show
Where it will go, nobody knows
But take your sweet time, finishing up the script
Because there are plenty of scenes babe, to get some words out of your lips
This fucking machine is tired of being used in such a way
Where he functioned only to please, rather than stay
Up all night and up all day
Just to make sure he'd wipe your tears away
I ain't wrong honey
Just a littled tired
A little used up
Or at least tired of being used
Remember me any way you like
You always had a way with the truth
But just keep in mind the facts
Of what I did for you
Whether I'm shit or a piece of gold
It really ain't the subject
My mind ain't what it used to be
But I'm almost sure I ain't some object
Go on kid, and make your mess
Drink your drinks and sing your songs
Ain't nothing wrong/with living your life
The way you want
I hope your happy in what you do
I hope you found something true
You may be beautiful and you may deserve nothing less
Nothing failing or less than the best
But you can't keep tellin' yourself babe
That I wasn't anything but a mistake
The words that were whispered and shouted out loud
Weren't whispers you could fake
You'd probably like to forget about Fifth St.
Or at least about the songs
Or maybe you don't, maybe you love 'em
May you sing 'em all night long
I'd like you to sing "Pima" for me baby
Just once for all times sake
And while you return from D back to G
Remember just how much you hate
The tears you cried when I first played for you
That 3-chord melody
So plain and simple but sharp enough
To cut your eyelids deep
Just as deep as your cuttin' me now
Whether you got that knife out or not
Silence is the sharpest weapon
Whether man made or caught
Pulled out from the air
Like a feather from your hair
That came from the boa
That you threw on that chair
That also had your gloves
That protect your hands
From touching the common flesh
Of all your adoring fans
But it ain't glamour anymore
It ain't the fun it used to be
The feathers and gloves are relics now
Thrown into the sea
As deep as your eyes
that still keep the green
That still inspire and punish me for having seen
A frustration that's built up in my throat
Ready to spill out onto my coat
But at least this paper can take the burden of this weight
That's changed from longing to damaging hate
And I can't hate
But it's becoming easier
Day after day
Day after day