They say that love is blind
The truth is just, love is pure.
She is patient, she is kind,
She’s unrefined and yet, demure.

Through her looking glass she sees
Spots of flaws and marks of pain
Why do you cry so much, darling?
How can I never make you feel that way again?

Love should know that beauty fades,
She should know that looks are weak
But love cannot be easily stuck in place
Not all who claim to find can truly seek.

Are you the measure of the man?
So wonderful in writing
But is your face too faithless
Shockingly unbeguiling.

Is love so shallow that she can’t see
How you give her the world?
But is it her prerogative to be
After those who make the heart twirl?

Will love be another one with a seven
With plenty of zeros to his name?
How does her nature suffer
When it is love you seek to tame?

There I was in my almost clinical white coat
Looking like Yoko Ono, oh no, didn't realise it at all.
Strolling all around the front square,
You in that tan coat stood there,
Looking like something out of  Harry Potter, I presume.
I'd clocked you at the protest a year before,
And you fell for me that first day,
Early September, leaves not yet falling
Me eating an apple a day.
It was the last fruit of summer,
I was still in love with someone else
And as summer became autumn, and is now becoming winter,
I honest to god can't tell.
I can't help myself.
I can't help myself.

You in our second meeting- but the first 'meeting'-
Acting like my very existence was bad for your health,
All this merging and converging like its two countries joining together,
I knew that you liked me, in ways you've liked me forever.
But I wanted to make him come back to me, wished on a spirit
To take him back to me, wished for the truth and- what did I see?
The last fruit of summer, an apple tree.

I was so nervous, I bit my lip so hard it bled,
I come from the Hughes', I lie then, instead.
Your red filaments, burning, yearning, twisting, turning,
Kissing me and hugging me like you've never wanted to hold onto a thing so tight.
I feel like a wild horse penned in, flying by night.
Because I know that you're mad about me
Honest to god I wish I was too,
But I don't understand what stops me from letting go and loving you.

It was the last fruit of summer,
The final kiss from the earth,
I wore all black, you in florals
Me not knowing my worth.
I want to take it slow, and you agree,
You'd agree to anything I want because it's me.
You and your artistic set, fashion-obsessed,
Everything I could ever want, everything you could ever spend.
But nothing that I really do want, in the end.
And I ask for the truth, to the apple tree,
I tell them- oh god- is this ruining me?
I cut it and eat it piece by little piece,
'I can't help you, darling, so just sit back and eat.'

And it’s only in those silent moments I feel sad.
I spend my days keeping busy,
I tell them all I am actually doing surprisingly well.
Because I actually feel like I am, it’s not just something I’m saying to say.

I grieved.
You were gone for, like, three days before you appeared to tell me it’s over.
So it felt as if you’d already done it.
Like a missing person’s body finally being found,
Like a crash towards the inevitable, that wave of just knowing.

He is never coming back.

But in the daylight I’m okay.
No one has to know my feelings on the subject,
You don’t even exist to them.  
It’s only when I’m in bed and the music stops that I realise the gaping hole in my world.

The faces of men I turned down for you,
The things I would’ve said, the plans I could’ve made,
How close I was to finally feeling safe.

But like every man before you,
And probably many more to come,
Safety is never an option.
Security is someone you call to get people out.
Home is a place where I build the walls, I decide who gets the password to come inside.

But I don’t want an audience anymore.

No one gets to see me.
Why should I let anyone see behind the mask of the Great and Powerful Oz?
What do I get in return?
No home, no heart, no courage for finally speaking up, no.
Just a slap in the face that feels like ice water.

So I sit here in silence, avoiding what has to be done and I cry and I cry until nothing comes out but a squeak.
This weak creature finally speaks:
‘You used to make me melt but now I’m melting.’

Oh, what a world,
What a world.

Yours is the face in the crowd
I want to see.
Yours is the name that I hear
And I always speak.
Yours is the sound on the wind
The missing breath in between
Mine is the serious thing
I know you’re missing me.

Yours is the song of the south
Of east, north and west too.
Yours is the message I see
But forgo replying to.
Yours is the chart that I read
Yours is the name I wail out with dread
When I’m alone sobbing in my bed
Full of the missing in between instead.

Yours is the face in the crowd
I’d rather meet.
Yours is the name that brings pain
The bittersweet.
Yours is the watery depth
Mine is the fire that leaves you bereft
And I know that I’m still a Queen
But there’s too much in between.

I still can’t find the words
Because, perhaps, a part of me feels
That you’ll look at me like I have ten heads
If I say how I cannot heal.

Perhaps I don’t want to heal at all,
Now I am a vulnerable, scorned thing.
The looks of realisation passing over their faces
As I tell my sorry story, my frightening fabula.

The tale of poppies and lilies and
The coldest winter I have ever known.
I was skin and bone with a ******* coat
And I didn’t like who it was that I was.

The tale of glassy eyes and cold ones
And throwing yourself at me
The tale of black and white pudding
Of Brett Ashley and Daisy Buchanan
Of ostentatiousness unrivalled.

I still can’t find the words
I’m angry, sad, tearful in public alone
Confused and bewildered.
Is that how you love someone?
Or claim that you do?

Is that the ‘nice thing’ you’re holding back?
Is that the swivelling chair or the casting couch?
Is that why I cannot seem to get over it?
Not over you, it.

And you say you weren’t well at the time.
I supposed we were both stuck clinging to each other
To broken to move away, to scared to be alone.
But no, this isn’t an excuse.

I still can’t put it into words
How profoundly odd I feel these days
You didn’t hurt me but you hurt me
And all I can see if your smirking face.
‘Calm down, you’re gorgeous.’

Oh, I could hate a hurt like that.
My sorry story, fantastic fabulam
Is it too posh if I speak outside English?
Why do you care? You knew who I was.
You know who I am.
You know.

And I’ll bet you also can’t find the words
So you hide behind cheap drinks and albums
And everything scummy because you despise who it is that you are.
Hoi polloi, the common man.
Whatever ‘common people do.’

I still can’t put it into words
And I don’t want to.
It’s too complex and I don’t have the energy to tell a story
To tell the world of the war I won
The hollow victory, the end of our empire.
Red lips, red boots, silver shoes.
Go to sleep, it’s over now.

I sit in the cold air on New Year’s Day
Oíche Shamhna or so they say.
I wait and wait for a strange delay
Witch’s brew or so they say.

I wish that I could sleep so tight
So soundly like you seem to do
When you say the soft ‘night night’
As if your conscience is clear and true.

I shiver in the air this day
It’s New Years now, or so they say.
My resolution was to change
And bury all the old timed hate.

To forget, forgive and start anew
To resolute with witch’s brew.
To toast the past and future too
To somehow live on without you.

I wait inside the freezing cell
All for the ringing of the bell
You made my life akin to hell
And from that low I found myself.

I sit in the cold on New Year’s Day
Allerheiligen as they say.
I live for getting through today
For I know you have hell to pay.

With you and everything I’ve seen
I can’t trust the moon on Halloween.
With you and everything I know
You’ll have what you want and then you’ll go.
With you and everything we’ve learned
All the minus points you’ve earned
All the witches that have burned
I have a right to be concerned.

I sit in the cold air on New Year’s Day
Oíche Shamhna or so they say.
I wait and wait for a strange delay
I wonder what form I will take.

Coffee in hand, she sits on a train
She smells a little like cinnamon and sage.
She hears a voice, her heart in her mouth
It isn’t him, as she fears. Absolutely no doubt.
Amongst the loud hum, she can spy at herself
So sad, so defeated, she’s like no one else.
Tears spring to her eyes as she looks at her screen
She’d been too busy living a Hemingway dream.
She won’t call him again, as he doesn’t care
She won’t let him in when he’s not really there.
She won’t be his last and she wasn’t the first
She isn’t the only girl to get hurt.
So coffee in hand, she’s no longer forlorn
For hell hath no fury like a good woman scorned.

Honey, honey, oh
How I wish we’d change
I just won’t let a person in
And that I’m deranged.

Don’t you, don’t you know
That the tides are not the same
You know every little thing
Except my middle name.

Honey, honey, oh
While I’m walking on the floor
The little light is dancing
And it’s in at every pore.

I don’t, I don’t know
What your god has in store
The angel told me one time
That my heart was meant for more.

And honey, honey, oh
I wish I wasn’t less
I wish I wasn’t talking in
My little black dress.

And honey, honey, oh
I swear I’d change it if I could
From faraway it’s easy
For a good girl to seem good.

And honey, honey, I
Am sorry and I want to say
I miss you more than anything
But it’ll never be the same.

It’s all unraveling again
It’s all so, so unreal
It’s all falling to pieces
‘Feel, honey. It’s alright to feel.’

I sit here.
I fall prey to your charms, harms and weaknesses.
I see you in my mind with glasses, Onassis.
Your brother flying across the Atlantic
And you are Atlas holding the world up.
I feel the old pang.
I fall prey- that’s me, Persephone.
I’ve had my time in Tartarus
And you were my Spring. My Astonishing Adonis,
Sunglasses, Onassis. All second chances.
The night I met a Greek hero disguised as a man
Who turned out to be a man disguised as a Greek hero.
And I miss you, as you go off.
I’m not Persephone, I’m Penelope.
I was unsure I’d wait for you
And now I don’t want to.
But still, part of me does.
Everyone is like a Greek god in some ways.
I’ve had my fun with Apollo and Hades and Zeus-
Who I’m still holding out for. But aren’t we all?
And you, born on the same day as my Pallas.
My palace in the future, my ramshackled past.
You know a surface, you weren’t meant to stay in my world.
And I prayed and prayed to let you stay.
But as always it was up in the air.
So I sit there.
I fall prey to your harms, charms and weaknesses.
Mine is weak ankles, yours is your weak spine.
And I wonder,
Did love ever make you blind?

I do so well without you
Then you come back again
I say that I am fine
I sit and play pretend.
I go off to parties
I try to flirt with men
I do so well without you
That it’s hard not to pretend.
And, silly me, I loved you
And, silly me, I care
For you and all around you
But love is never fair.
I do so well without you
Then back you come around
I see you in the distance
You look for common ground.
I say I want to see you
I say I want to call
I sit alone and wonder
If I was anything at all?
And, silly me, I loved you
I thought I meant the world
To me, you were my everything
But I was not your girl.
I do so well without you
So very, very well.
Until you say hello again
And I’m under your spell.
And, silly me, I talk to you
I often bare my soul
And, silly me, I love you
But you don’t deserve to know.

He texts me.
It’s impersonal.
What was I expecting it to be?
There’s no real connection except that of a single flame in the altogether too dark caves- or cavres- of our hearts.
I almost backspace it all.

He texts me.
He tells me I’m cute.
Cute is a compliment that’s too easy.
There is nothing in cuteness except that of a noncommittal compliment but it’s meant to make my cheeks blush.
It doesn’t. Nothing does.

He texts me.
It’s nothing at all.
We aren’t saying a thing.
There’s nothing worth saying when you’re talking in circles with a man who can’t understand that you’re more than a surface you show to the world.  
So I say nothing. He says nothing.

He texts me.
We say goodnight.
What was I expecting to feel?
There is nothing in these feelings except that which reminds me of you and I hate that that’s all it is.
So I sit down and think.

And I write you a message.
Every line I want to tell you, everything everything everything that makes me sad that you’re gone.
Everything everything everything that makes me well up in tears- in emotions I thought I was finished feeling.
So I sit down and I write and I write all of everything down.

And I backspace it all.

You called it our baby
And I sung it into life
The first word in its ear
The song of all our strife.

I am the ****** queen
No man to make me rule
Your underestimated dream girl
Your perfect ingenue.

You called the sounds
The good sounds
And from the rock came death
And all the sad destruction
And all our baited breath
And all the holy discord
And every frightened dream
And bare breasted, I move on
Like water in the stream.


You called me your baby
And swan-songed ever sweet
I went along with every gamble
Til you tasted defeat.

I am the queen of snakes
The Pythia, obscured
The maiden, mother, mistress, crone
The one that’s never heard.

You called my body
A celestial body
And from the sky came rain
And in the eclipsing silence
You never heard my pain
And all the holy hatred
And all the washed up dreams
And now, I alone move on,
Like water in the stream.

Sweet Pythia, I’m burning
And I must find the way
The lonely heart has never learned
How to make him stay.

But he is not contention
He is only choice
The songs I sang for many men
Only make him love my voice.

And you call these sounds
The good sounds
When the good sounds please you best
The sounds when they adore you
Not the aggressive ‘I digress’
And all the holy Heras
And all the built in rust
And I, without armies win battles
And you without care, **** trust.

I am the mistress, maiden, crone
All dolly-eyed and blue
Your manic little angel
Your perfect ingenue.

I am the maiden, mother, crone
And now apart from you
Because no one is anything
And nothing you heard is true.

I text you.
As usual.
It’s jokey.
You say that top I’m wearing would look good on your floor.
Then you stop.
Correct yourself.
‘Our.’
Our floor?
‘Us’, ‘we’, ‘you’, ‘me’.
Our.
You say you’ll take care of me and I tell you I won’t run away.
You joke about the pressure.
You want to see me again.
You want to kiss me a million times.
You say you’re my guy and I’m your girl.
Our floor, our lives, our one mind together.
Our.
You tell me in sleepy pillow talk a thousand miles away.
‘I’m wrapped around your finger.’
‘I’, ‘you’, ‘me’, ‘we’.
I have to google it.
Am I manipulative because of it?
Or do I have way too much power in this situation?
The internet tells me I should be happy.
You are already head over heels.
Am I head over heels?
Are ‘we’ head over heels?
We joke again.
If we were rich, where would we live.
‘New York, of course,’ I said.
‘Let’s get a place in the Caribbean too.’ He said.
An island built for two,
Just me and you.
An island un-alone,
We say it over the phone.
I wish I was permanently near,
Not far,
So that you and I, us,
Could become an ‘our’.

Hecate,
When I was off and gone world weary
Weeping sorrowful in winter
I called on you to help and spare me sorrow.
Now that it is spring, it is now
My duty,
Sweet, sweet magical maiden fair
To grant you help in all you seek.
For you, master of magic, mistress of mythos
Can not fathom that which is the greatest magic,
The one within even mere mortals.
Love, Hecate. Love.
I know that I am one to talk,
Having broken free of the shackles that were formerly Hera’s,
But you, sweet Hecate, must not be mistaken as we are.
In your eyes sits the light of a thousand suns, burning with joy and potential to be,
You cannot subject yourself to these mortal pains, these mortal errors,
These wounds of the flesh as he does.
For he will lead you down a path rarely survived,
Rarely survived truly,
He will walk you into depths of sorrow,
Your own Hades, sweet Hecate.
He will lead you to question the very meaning of yourself,
The very essence of who it is that you are.
You are stronger than a mortal,
As any oracle will tell you,
As any of my court will attest.
He maintains such a level of power over you
That he makes fools of gods and spares no souls,
He has taken you for something silly and of that nature too.
But Hecate, you know this, a spell of love is just a spell
And so driven are you like Apollo before you, so driven with love
That you’ll cast it.
It is not yours to cast, that is Eros’ part and doing so would cause the world to shift out of balance.
But you will do it anyway, Hecate, for I know you well.
I shall leave you with this, and this truly,
Bad things happen to mortals who mess with gods.

-Persephone.

It’s not yet ten
And a man who loves himself more than a thing should love at all
Plays on my screen.

A song I know and could sing.

I watch it silently, I watch
Other’s silent moving pictures
The smile with a tongue out
And the new year’s kiss.

A song I know and could sing.

These are the regular people
And I am never one of them.
It’s only in humbling, stumbling
Unashamedly human moments
That I feel at one with the universe-
And all the regular people.

The people who count down and drink too much
And kiss on the lips without intention
And who put their hands near their beloved
For a little bit of attention.

The people who complain that it’s nothing or something scary
That we should joke about to hide our feelings on the matter
The people who call you or text you whose names you might wish to forget.

A song I know and can sing.

Happy New Year.

Is he scared of me?
I'm scared of me.

I have a tongue of acid,
Heart of glass,
Cut like a knife,
Fragile as ash.
All of the wonder of Midsummer's walks,
All of the nightmare of 'what are we?' talks.
Complex as the cosmos,
Bright as a bean,
Sometimes I am someone
You wish you'd never seen.

So, is he scared of me?
Why do you ask?
There must be much scarier
Under his mask.

I blame Diana, the hunt, the game.
He was a fool for her wily ways.
I blame the girl, the victor of the tale.
She gets the spoils, I only fail.

He says he needs time.
But time doesn't wait.

The best kinds of kisses are the ones that you don't think about.
The ones that take a look into your eyes to get the mood right.
The ones that cut off your thoughts, your words, your mind
But don't make you stress about doing it right.

I was never much of a kisser,
No one wanted to kiss me like that.
That is until I just bit the bullet and took matters into my own hands.
I just did it, for once.
And, for once, that was enough.

It was just a little kiss.
I'm sure it lasted a second.
You told me your name and shook my hand and said 'I think you deserve a kiss for that'
After duetting with you on karaoke.
How millennial!
How divine!
I just looked up at you and it happened just like in the movies
And I pulled away because I had to leave.
You kissed me on the cheek and said goodbye to me.
But I wish I could kiss you again.

The worst thing about losing you
Is that it wasn't cinematic
The last time I lost somebody
I was in a blind panic.

The worst thing about losing you
Is that I could see it coming
It was there just down the line
But I still did nothing.

Listening to smooth jazz
As valentine roses -not mine- wilt.

You know how there's a Doomsday clock that measures how close we are from a global catastrophe?
That's about as close as I am to messaging you on any given day.

I have, in my heart some kind of profound love for you.
It's almost as if it's a part of my being.
But, I can't imagine you actually being mine.
I feel as if we would tie each other down too much
And no one wants that.
But I feel, in my heart a deep, profound love for you.
The kind that sits in the pit of your stomach and has a firm hold on your heart.
The kind that we always try to describe and quantify in poetry but can never quite capture.
The kind that reminds me of a shadow, smoke, and a ghost. There but not really.
Is this what love is?
A slow descent.

I could have any kind of conversation
With any kind of man
But the ones we want to talk to us
Never, ever do
They all stop in the end.
They all vanish like it was pretend.

I remember it so well,
We were talking about spirit animals.
I was expecting you to scoff, because most boys do.
But you didn't.
In fact, you loved it.

You told me all about your friends,
All obsessed with spirit animals.
I asked you what you thought yours was
And you looked me straight in the eye
And said 'A deer.'

A deer? A deer!
Oh, I can't explain how much the thought of you
Having a deer as your own spirit animal
Made my own heart soar.
I never knew how much I loved deer as a species
Until that day.

Thinking back on it, of course it's a deer.
You have such a majesty and grace about you
But such an awkward, all over the place side as well.
You move with caution, eyes unsure of what's to come
But also move so freely in your natural habitat.
Just as long as you're not caught in the headlights.

Ever since you said 'deer' to me,
My heart just soars at the thought of it.
How can a person be their spirit animal?
**And I have loved deer ever since.

Fashion is fantastic, I'm a big fan of plastic

I've got a boy in West Virginia
Who sends me all kinds of pictures
He says 'I wanna be with ya'
But I don't think he's the one.

I've got a boy just outside Paris
Seems that he's not that embarrassed
I guess that I'm the last on a long list
I don't think he's the one.

There's a boy who lives in my city
He tells me 'Girl, you're really pretty'
But I know, he'll never be with me
So I don't think he's the one.

There's a boy I loved just a while ago
He never fell in love with me though
It hurts to say, but I don't know
I still think he's the one.

I have never met him,
But he thinks I am stunning,
He's everything I want,
No one else is in the running.

Skin like a Redmayne,
Darkest eyes I've ever seen,
Just a posh boy who's determined
To crush his parents dreams.

He's the Saint of Temptation,
Talks like he's got a title,
In love with the East,
A master of survival.

He is steeped in history,
And though I do not know why,
His reputation reaches further
Then the late night red sky.


The only problem is,
He's as perfect as can be,
No matter how stunning,
Another girl's with him, not me.

Have you ever met someone who has an irrational fear?
Of course you have
Well, my irrational fear is love and I know
It sounds like a line someone would say but, it's not.

I reeled you in, not that it was difficult and
then I told you to go.
I realise now, this was not the way I should've conducted myself.
I'm sorry for that.

I clawed my way back to you, after swallowing my pride and
I fell again, harder this time.
How dangerous, how scary, how thrilling.
I faced my fear and I see now that you can't be scared of love.

But now you're scared of me.

Another graduating class headed to another Grease themed party
Where another girl will have a revelation and meet the T Bird of her dreams.
Another plethora of pink ladies jackets and James Dean boys
Where another me and you will dance again.

Another life, much like my own where a popular boy cares
Where for a split second it doesn't matter how many people know you.
Another night, much like that night where you'll be worlds away again
Where I'll stay up all night thinking and falling in love.

Another girl is doing this right now.
She's at home, late at night dreaming of him.
He probably doesn't know or care too much.
She doesn't quite know what it is that she wants but she knows that he fits in somewhere.
He doesn't know what he wants at all.
In the end, it will be too little, too late.
Another day, week, month, year will go by
And they will be in the same place as they started.

Another set of Sandys and Dannys, Rizzos and Kenickies,
Where the magic of the movie wears off and the cycle starts again.

What is this dull ache I feel where my heart lies?
What are these tears doing tumbling out of my eyes?
What have I done to feel this way?
What have I lost? What did you say?

What is this struggle I feel when I breathe?
What is that anger doing boiling in me?
What made me do this to myself again?
What do I do? What is a 'friend'?

How do I come back from this?
This absolute brink of loneliness.
How did I let myself get attached?
Its easy to see it's not a good match.
How on earth can the earth not shake?
How do we survive heartbreak?

Why do you treat me like I'm
Your Mistress?
Your little secret that no one else can see.
When your friend's walk by and
We're together
You never even look at me.

Why do you treat me like
Something on the side?
Your little hidden gem that no one notices.
When we're with each other
No one else matters
Until I'm left all alone again.

Then, why do I treat you like
My own little secret?
Can I be such a hypocrite?
I can't bring myself tell anyone
Anything
This isn't lasting, is it?

You are an enigma
And my kind of mind
Has no option but to work you out.

I don't know why I always do this.
I am never just 'satisfied' with waiting, I guess.
Maybe, I do this kind of thing because I'm sad.
Maybe because I am lonely.
Maybe because I hurt so much and I want to feel so much more
But I always end up more hurt in the end than I was before.

I made myself a self-fulfilling prophecy
But I put my faith in the wrong person
And I lost you.
Now that I'm stuck waiting,
I feel the weirdest pain
I'm not content with anything at all.
Maybe because I hurt so much and I want to feel so much more
But I always end up more hurt in the end than I was before.

I don't know why I do this.

I remember thinking
'Tomorrow you'll be worlds away'
When faced with my biggest regret.

I know we've gotten off to a slow start
But slow and steady wins the race,
Right?

We always get so close
Never quite the hundred we need
We don't talk for what seems like eternity.

You are exceptional
My favourite Phoenix boy
A boy torn between what people will think and how he feels.

I've played the waiting game
A game I know well
If you say the word I'm yours.

But if we never end this on a definite full stop
I'll be left wondering
And you'll be left wondering
And we'll never know what wonders we could've seen.

I hope each day
I hope and pray
You're not the one that got away.

I've moved so many times
But that house stayed constant
All the years of staying late
Thinking it was haunted.

That house was like a home to me
Where I'd sit with dogs in dim light
And dance around the kitchen
Bake cookies and try to take flight.

We walked around the neighbourhood
And ate our weight in doughnuts
Listened to pop songs and sang along to Snow
And tried to get boys to phone us.

The place where we would rescue Peach
And let our piano skills loose
With Juicy Couture jingly bags
And never ending apple juice.

All the teddy bears we won
And sneaking into sister's parties
To curry sauce and French plait fails
Marked my height from when I was thirteen.

The Halloweens full of sweets on the floor
And crying at sad parts in cartoons
With all the 'road friends' drawing near
In my best friend's little box room.

The house is like a museum
A house of memory for me
One thought and I am half my age
With Guinea Pigs and our hopes for babies.

Goodbye old house, Goodbye old friend
This is the end, I know
You're up for sale and then you'll be
Somebody else's home.

I know why Lola did it.
And I know she'll do it again.
Someone like me has got to leave
I've just gotta figure out when.

I know why Lola did it.
It wasn't just for fun.
It's taken me two years of tears
But now I've narrowed it to one.

I know why Lola did it.
She'd done it all before.
What a friend I have and then
Nobody will let me know any more.

Lola is the type to stay hidden in the grass,
In the past, in the night
One second I'm stuck here in fright.
She's still so young in her mind,
So unkind, so alive
Let me tell you I'm not a child.
Lola.

I know why Lola did it.
She couldn't stand the thought.
Of him choosing me over her
So she had to let him rot.

Lola.
Lola.
Why?

No man is an island
But I am a colony
Of an empire who thrives
Off of its own jealousy.

I am always being governed
By what people think
Could I get out of it?
Alone I might sink.

Am I your ally?
We're not treated the same
I'm sorry for my history
But you're part of the blame.

I have to get away
I'm sick of hearing who 'won'
I don't know how I'll do it
It's not going to be fun.

I don't like this policy
I should be governed by me
I'm a superpower
Not somebody's colony.

No one is an island
And we all need someone
But maybe from a distance
Vive ma révolution!

Being underage is like living in the prohibition era
There's always a party going on somewhere
Golden girls with bobbed hair and flowing clothing
Bad boys over-age importing alcohol in.

The roaring under-20s
The tales of the Jazz age
There's always a dance to have
A friend to stick with
A boy to catch your eye.

I never got invited to parties
That is, until I reached the roaring heights
Of high society
When for one night I was the focus of your attention
No other girl danced as much with you.

People were taking drags on long cigarettes
Noise everywhere, wild young hearts aflame
You caught my eye once more
And you looked at me the way all girls want to be looked at.

Our courage bubbled over, I gave you a kiss on the cheek
A Parisian end to the night
And I let you go off
Into the misty green light.

When I was younger than I am now
I was part of a Cold War.
His heart was so cold
That it froze all of my Cuban heat.
He was only trying to help I guess
Only trying to show me his heart.
But I ran away scared into the arms
Of his enemy, my friend.
At least I thought that we were friends.
In the end it all came down to seconds,
He asked the question, I rang the hotline to the friend,
I pushed the button, in the end.
Everyone was contained, that's for sure.
So composed and dignified in the face
Of the cold shoulder.
Alas, the ally is no better than the enemy
We all have our secret snaky sides.
Even the man with the D.C dreams of foreign policy.
The man who only wanted me, the man who didn't mean to
Start this war.
And the worst part is, I don't know who was right.
War is never black and white.

It seems that I'm always waiting.
I used to wait and wait for him
For him to see in in the perfect light
And realise he couldn't be without me.

I waited my turn.
And I got him
I got him to see me
The way all girls want to be looked at.

And now I am waiting.
Once more I wait for a boy like you
A boy like you who makes me feel so alive
And so perfect like the light I want to be seen in.

But the waiting game is dangerous.
You have to be just close enough to giving up
To giving up your whole philosophy on life
Just for a moment of you.

The only question is:
Would you wait for me too?

I am indeed over you.
I know you've been over me for quite some time.
Now I have someone new.
And it's better we're not together, alright?

I know that yesterday I went to your past life.
And I know I wished I'd see the ghost of you there.
Your name, your photo, the thoughts of the night.
I had to stop myself from wandering in the woods, Bear.

I don't think anyone will ever know.
How much of my me you take up.
Without you I wouldn't be able to throw
It all away in the name of love.

But now I am without you.
Now I'm the one whose moved on.
I am so close to getting a new thing to do.
And I can't tell you because you're gone.

I don't know what happened
And I don't really care
My only regret is
That I wasn't there.

It's weird. It's weird.
I saw you again.
Always walking away from me in the same places.
Over and over.

It's a slow news day.
I'm talking to nothing.
I'm trying to convince myself that I know best.
Over and over.

Cos it's weird. It's weird.
That you should walk back again.
On a day when I knew I couldn't talk to you.
And I find myself hoping to talk to you.
Over and over again.

Out of the blue
I was next to you
In the club at the party near the pier.

All of a sudden
After a dozen
Looks at me you came over my way.

Intertwine my fingers
You still linger
You've got me by the heart.

Your soul is in my mind
And in just a few hours time
I'll be left thinking until 4:30 AM.

I wish that I was going to Venice to be with you.
So I could stop wishing I was going to Paris to be with him.

I wish I didn't have to go
So I could stop and say hello.
I miss you most when I forget
The way you look at me and yet
I miss you so when I remember
The reenactments of November
Because in that moment you were there
Hold my hand, stop and stare.
I saw you after such a time
you're still a greaser but in your prime
And I realised the clearest thing
For you I have a song to sing
And chance is quite a friend you see
That I'd see you and you not me
But I wish that I had said hello
I wish I didn't have to go.

I honestly,
In all honesty,
Want to say I'm over you.

I can't even tell if I'm lying
As I lie
Both in bed and in communication
I think that I'm telling the truth.

Gypsy Rose Lee.
Is that you or me?
Does that make you Baby June?

The favourite and best
No concern for the rest
You sing and you dance in the tune.

Or just like Gypsy
You learn how to strip tease
The glamour and glitz of the night.

But who's mama Rose?
And how could I know?
She pushes and leads to a fight.

But Gypsy is magic
And a rare art form
And June is so dainty
Doesn't know when she's born
She's the centre of attention
She's the first one who speaks
And Gypsy is left there
Still being Louise.

Chow mein and lambs
Travel the land
A show on vaudeville stage.

Let me entertain you
Let me have a try too
Honey, were you not entertained?

Body.