I can't be a wooden man. As you pull on my strings.
I know your devious plan. That **** hurts me and stings.
I see your wandering eyes. When we walk down the street.
I'm tired of your obvious lies. As I lay between hardened sheets.
The late night phone calls. Where you whisper in the dark.
The sudden visits to the mall. When he climbs in and lights a spark.
Now there's a bump in the front. And you're trying to say its me.
But I've gotta be really blunt. You never did make me squee.
Dec 23, 2013
Dec 23, 2013 at 1:01 AM UTC
I can't be a wooden man. As you pull on my strings.
I know your devious plan. That **** hurts me and stings.
I see your wandering eyes. When we walk down the street.
I'm tired of your obvious lies. As I lay between hardened sheets.
The late night phone calls. Where you whisper in the dark.
The sudden visits to the mall. When he climbs in and lights a spark.
Now there's a bump in the front. And you're trying to say its me.
But I've gotta be really blunt. You never did make me squee.