I drank a little too much again
My daddy thinks I have too many friends
Whiskey’s a harsh mistress. Doesn’t let you go home alone
I’m staring at the ceiling. Feel like my covers been blown
I’ve got a pit in my stomach you say I just need some rest
I don’t think so honey, but I think you’re the best

You’re here every sunday telling me i’m your woman.
I tell you i don’t belong, tell you i was born broken.
I’m your weekend lover, say what you want to hear.
You look me in the eyes, you whisper in my ear

You tell me love is for the weak. I say alcoholism’s for lovers
Pour me a drink. She told me i don’t need another.
You say that you’ll never beg, but you’re pleading with me.
I’m like telling you what i want. You’re telling me what i need.

She says he likes me better. I tell her she can have him.
My mom says I shouldn’t keep on. I only know bad men.
But he always drinks too much, and i think that’s romantic.
He takes me by the hand and tells me i don’t need to panic.

You say i shouldn’t drive. I say pretty girls don’t have to.
You open up your eyes. i think i’m too temperamental for you.
You taste like my favorite cigarettes, and I taste like blood.
I tell you i want to go home. you say you want me so much.

i can still smell the american spirits you left in my father's house
my body ached when you touched me, ached when i felt you
i'm sweet like blood. i'm running down the back of your hand
you still won't see me, but i'm splattered on your skin

your car of beer is still on the shoreline
a keepsake left there by chance and drought
i am screaming in the way i do only in dreams
i'm sweet like honey, i'm slipping from your mouth
i am sticky on your skin, but you wash up often
you're pointing at the stars. i'm staring at your hands

it was early morning. pale blue, a little grey
i ached when you left me; i ached when you stayed
i didn't want you near me, but i was lonesome enough
to ignore your eyes, your hands roaming up my skirt
your teeth ache, you are wiping me off of your chin
you say i taste like roses, but i'm just too saccharine

too much of love is needing a cigarette
too much of love is wringing your hands
not enough of it is you calling me
without my asking

we are in a bed that belongs to neither of us,
and we do not feel like us.
i am wrapped around you, you are suffocating.
when you kiss me, i cannot feel your panic.
i see it on your face, i pull you back in.

i put on my best show. i say all the words right.
i say love so many times it doesn’t sound real.
you kiss me the same way, but
your hands feel smaller than before.

you say love but you mean pity, you mean longing
in a heart that does not know it well.
you mean lust for a woman who cries often
and kisses softly, sweetly, like your mother.