Pastels and pretty pictures,
I lean back in the couch,
The elephant in the room,
She'll never know about,
How the critics wail over the way the paint falls off her brush.
I would rather drop-dead,
Than ever talk about
That night back in 07'
Teeth flying out my mouth,
But I think you would've liked me better then anyhow,
Each year he writes a note
and leaves it in his room,
Key lime pie, Saturdays at the zoo,
Reminiscing flashbacks of better fast food,
Dead the day,
He scurries home in the dead of night,
Dragging his will, whats left, shaking off the frostbite,
Volunteers to play drunken clown for another night,
I think of their eyes and everything that they've seen,
Nothing that I see could ever be unique,
So don't you lie and say you see it shining in me.
Written by Skylar Bouchard. All Rights Reserved.