You don’t want me to be the rational one.
You don’t want the truth.
you’re lookin’ for lightnin’ in a bottle,
you want life-locked-lips ‘n finger tips,
teeth-marks ‘n passion you can sink hip-deep in.
you want an elemental force with a light-switch;
just for you, ever, always, when you need it.
You don’t want me to explain why shit doesn’t go your way.
You don’t want another person to explain why you have to go.
you’re lookin’ for now, now, now,
you want me to remind you how much you’re worth,
lift head-high, wipe those tears,
‘n sing you songs ’bout how you’ll find a way.
You want great lines; an old school romance.
I haven’t got that.
I haven’t got any of that.
I’ve got hands that will hold your wrists overhead,
as I leave teeth-shaped bruises on your neck.
I’ve got hungry eyes that will devour you out|side|in,
and a tongue to follow their lead.
I won’t give you false,
I’ve got what I’ve got,
and that’s probably not worth more than a short stint,
but it strikes me that you want more of a distraction than anything else.
I’m good with things that don’t last.
They don’t ever last.
