She was a pretty little mess,
One two many drinks,
A silly teenage fool,
One that doesn't think.

They all called her a *****,
She wore a very short black dress
They said: "***** little ****!"
She thought: "but am I pretty yet?"

She danced against the wall
Until she caught an eye
She stumbled to the settee
Sat down on someones knee

They didn't talk for long,
No, they didn't speak at all;
Only breaths and gasps and whispers
The sound of a mistake

Of course, she had planned this all
And hoped that he might call
She blamed it on the drink
She said she didn't think

This happened many times,
Each night a new regret
And every morning she wondered
"Am I pretty yet?"

In the endless ripples
Of night's hidden face,
In the forgotten midnights,
moon's forbidden taste,

Our eyes open wider,
The darker skies turn,
Our body gathers fire,
And our minds begin to burn.

There is something so velvety,
So soft and so blue,
About the way that this nighttime,
Cradles me and you

Something so innocent,
So sweet yet so cruel,
In the way that desire,
Is love's petroleum fuel

And if I could choose one place to stay for evermore,
I would choose tonight's ever-golden sky,
Tonight's healing soothing yielding ugly lie.

For tonight shall not last,
But tongues will keep it alive,
And I'll wish it were gone,
And vanish it, I'll try,

But the blinding day,
chatters over midnight's whispers,
Silences the moon.

It casts a golden ray of shine in,
our tired seeking eyes,
Hides the images of you.

And Tomorrow's spoil evenings,
Like ink stains on wedding dresses,
Like blood on a summers day,
Like a needle in the hay,

But surely we all know, what foolish I is after,
Clinging on to hope,
Silly me, queen of disaster