You asked me why I would ever want to
be with you
and I said
"Really?"
and you said
"After having gotten to know me better, and learning all the problems I have,
is it really worth the time?"

Really,
I just want you to remember that
I kiss you
even when you smoke Marlboro Blacks.
And I'd kiss you if you smoked
Cloves
or even GPC's.
And if you ever decide to quit I'll be 100% behind you
(Because honestly blacks taste awful)
(And because they're terrible anyway)--
But if not,
I'll still be happy to kiss your
cigarette lips.

Because they're still your lips-
no matter how they taste.
And because they're worth it.

arms draped in crescents
eyes open to the pale nighttime sadness
we lay like a mural on the darkness of bedsheets
we shiver like silver
stars leave their trails on our cheeks

we have never been more radiant
we have never been more heartbroken
we are the moon

I collect scars.
I show them to people rarely.
Sometimes I think of them fondly,
sometimes I think of them coldly.

I write a lot about the place where (we) met.
Where (we) fell in love.
Where (we) grew apart.

I guess in a way, my memories are scars.
I collect memories.
I share them with people rarely.
Sometimes I think of them fondly,
sometimes I think of them coldly.

Your mother told you kissing me must be like kissing an ashtray.
You told her you'd rather kiss this ashtray
than the sweetest strawberries.

Why did you say that?

i think i like boys better
in my dreams.

Sell your dope.
Sell the last of it
and the first of it.

No, don't rail it tonight,
you know you'll just end up
shooting it tomorrow.

Sell your dope.
Sell it cheap
and sell all of it.

Buy roses,
buy chocolates,
buy gas.

Ask her on a date,
to the movies,
to dinner.

Sell your dope,
and kiss her.
What is more important?

You know what is more important.
Your high will last 4 hours, maybe five.
The feeling of her lips will linger.

The feeling of her lips will linger.
Sell your dope,
fall in love.