While he’s asking what’s inside her head,
he knows she’s told him too much he didn’t know.
And here I am, too sure of what’s in yours.
Even the birds can’t keep up with that tail-shaking,
how can I? My vision’s blurred by these sarcastic paper hearts,
spiteful mementos of a month ago. It seems longer,
sure, but we burned out quick. And now,
my chest is burning, whiskey instead of you.
Forever together is a nice notion, but a laugh is quicker to please.
Please me, please.
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