Cars pass by the window,
none of them are yours.
Don't have a bed,
but you won't sleep on any floors.
You won't take the time,
but say I take every minute.
You don't get my mind,
but you're constantly in it.
I hear that you love me,
but I never see that you do,
People pass by the window,
but none of them are you.

I hate the taste of bourbon,
Feels too far from urban,
It makes me think of home.
Small talk,
Small flock,
Small minds.
Art on my body,
Unique or a hobby?
"How will you feel when you're old?"
I love being different,
But not the feeling that comes with it,
Being worn down by squares.
I hate the taste of bourbon,
It's almost disturbing,
How badly I want to be alone in a crowd.

Always feel peace of mind,
When I have you in my line of fire.
Saw her standing all alone,
Behind a black swivel throne.
She's the queen,
She's the queen,
She's the queen.
Of my desire.
Mind control,
Had she known,
She wouldn't be under my spell.
I keep her close,
Under my nose.
A heavy dose,
Of a pearl from it's shell.
She can't escape my desire.
String you along,
Around my neck.
Call you up,
So you don't forget -
I show you off,
I treat you well,
So you can't say you miss your shell.
You can't escape,
Can't escape,
Can't escape.
My desire.

There used to be a boy that lived down the street,
I thought I loved him when we ****** in the front seat.
I felt like a grown up,
I didn't feel sixteen.
A few men later, felt sharp as a tack.
I loved a man that said "I'd give you the shirt off my back".
I felt like a grown up,
I didn't feel eighteen.
Then came a man with my mom's new last name,
I escaped the final touch but not all the blame.
He told me "you're not a kid anymore",
Every day since I was twelve he did the math.
I wish I didn't want to grow up before,
I was only eighteen and a half.

3D Dali,
Lost in your eyes while I breathe in dragons blood.
My lungs,
Filled with,
Hope, Faith, a need or something dumb.
Purple stuck in a globe,
God I know you want to be free.
But we're all stuck in a cage,
Where others think we should be.
******* a postcard can you tell me,
Why I sit here and pretend,
Like we're all just make believe,
In someone's twisted little head?
But my pain,
I think it's real.
My feet crowded by the carpet,
I feel.
But who will tell us how to heal?
Please, who will tell us how to heal?