I am not a saint and neither are you. So what are we to do - But sit back and Watch the same suspects; Sit in self-pity, Sick to their stomachs; With own-grown notions; Of a love so cavity-sweet. A rotten romance Written by children - Drags us all to the dentist.
As it takes centre stage; We act it out together. Watch as they gorge themselves Fat on the falsity; Stuck in a daze of how they Ought to be; Of how they'll never be.
And the hope heals the heat of it. Softens the sting of it - Like milk; But like milk that sits stagnant; It'll slowly turn sour. Watch as the older ones choke on it. Swig back and cough up the chunks in it. Self-hatred never settled well.
Look, Look but don't touch. People like us are too rough; For the people of painted porcelain. Fairy-tale spines are feeble; Paper hearts and scripted stories Smolder in the heat of us; Fold with the weight of us.
And I will never understand, Why delusions rule reality? Why broken hearts are promised to teenage dreamers? Why mad in love is the golden rule? Surely, insanity only drives you to a hospital? I can't go back down that road. I want to be sane in love; The same in love; Or not in love. After all, What's wrong with a little *** and sanity?
So, We are not saints; And I don't believe in god. I don't need your love story. Baby don't lie to me; Heaven isn't here for the finding; **** fake fantasies; Let's make our own masterpiece; Just paint my skin with your lips with my lips on your skin; before we fall asleep.
I hung your heart With your coat by the door, You can have it back; When you leave in the morning.