You painted me an image
Of rolling southern fields
Struggling to stand up right
Beneath the muggy, humid sky
You wrote me song
Called it city living
You never told me
That instead of the ambitious, bohemian dream
I'd cut myself - deep - on the edge of things
You gave me a small taste of your scent
It smelled like good tongue kissing
But it was never groupies with no *******
Only a constant stream of falling into
The hard concrete of an impossible love
With a beautiful angel
Back then -
Where the reds were rosier
And I was so impressionable
You promised me so much
Maybe I deserve these bruises
Which tattoo up my entire body
Weaving a story
Of willing betrayal