Bruises are THE fashion accessory for pretty girls, you know
I do believe mine are beginning show.
Under your binding rope I'm held
my hands into each other meld.
I would pay for your affection
I stay home, retching my objection
loving your concession
praising your dejection.
Self deprecation is all the rage
And now I'm center stage
drowning my sorrows in barrels of illegality
my age is my downfall, the fatality.
I miss the way you bite my neck
keeping every limb in check
tying every arm on deck
Blinded by the discotheque.
I long to belong
I faun to your song.
I pray for your rejection
and I wish for your election
I crave your affection
I cut away my objection
I understand your infection
the heated funeral procession
I drown myself in my dejection.
God, how i miss your imperfection.

 
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