Title: Teen Slut; Whore
Explosion
Disclaimers: I do not own
them, Joss does. We all know this.
Lyrics: Slipknot own 'Heretic',
not me. They are in bold.
Authors Comments:
In my mind this is not a songfic. It makes little sense; that's the whole
point. I'll toast anyone who mails me and says it's jumbled.
Summary: Faith covets her
obsession.
Teen Slut; Whore Explosion
Like a dead beat winner, I want to
be a sinner
In the Bronze, covered in the beat of some
cheap shit song that someone made on a laptop.
Still, knocking back my beer, I let it crawl
over me.
And I'm looking round, trying to convince myself
it's not for her.
But I know me better than that.
I got my obsession and I love it.
Like a puppy, for more than Christmas; because...
It's always her.
An idolized bang, for the industry
killer.
I feel a hand on my arm and I want to break
all the fingers attached to it.
Touching me?
You know who I am?!
I look round and realise they do; because it's
her.
It's always her.
Throw a suicide party, and I'm guaranteed
to fucking snap.
'Hey, didn't know you were coming tonight,
Faith?'
And I'm looking at those lips of hers as they
move.
As they form those words, as they say my name.
Even her voice makes my breathing speed.
'It's your birthday, B. Didn't think I'd miss
it did you?'
But obsessions my best friend, so I give it
a bone crunching hug; because...
It's always her.
It's evilsonic, It's pornoholic.
All the time that beats pounding into me,
and I'm holding on to it.
Thing is it's getting faster and faster, like
me.
Close enough to the point where you flip out.
Except I'm not so shit scared of letting go anymore.
I get my angst out on vamps, right?
Except I don't; she's there, even when she's
not; because...
It's always her.
Breakdowns, Obscenities, It's all I wanna be.
I punch them when I want to be kissing
her.
I kick their ribs in, when I want
to be licking up her neck.
I snap bones, when I want to be pushing my
fingers into her, slowly.
I make them beg, when I want it to
be her; because...
It's always her.
All the money in the world can't
buy me.
I'm fucked, in my mind.
Right down deep, even in the dusty corners.
I'm fucked.
I've built a shrine to Buffy Summers.
Like a teenagers pop craze.
If you could see behind my eyes there'd be
posters of her, everywhere.
Stuck to the inside of me; pictures, moments,
looks, words, smells.
She's my teen slut obsession; and I'm loving
every minute of it, because...
It's always her.
GO AHEAD. LIE TO ME.
'I'm glad you're here.'
I'm glad I'm here, now.
I watch her, smiling as I do, tossing her my
silent comments to what she just said.
A look can speak a thousand words.
If that's true then I'm reciting a dictionary.
Slut myself up, rip myself down, reach up to
her pedestal, burn my hand on the torch?
All of it and more.
And I'm loving it, because...
It's always her.
Tell me again how you're tortured
Inhaling on my smoke she stands next to me.
Close enough for me to smell her shampoo.
Another thing for me to steal.
I feel like a serial killer, taking momento's.
She's filling my shrine up, making it
so pretty.
And I'm gonna put it all on show, because...
It's always her.
You're full of SHIT.
Another song, another dead bassline not inspiring
me to raze the dancefloor.
I'm full of tension, like a bottle of soda,
shaken up to the point of bursting.
'I have to go, B. I got somewhere I need to
be. I came to give you your present.'
I run my fingers through my hair, and I'm so
hyped even my skulls tingling.
Her face falls a little, and it makes my smile
bigger.
My favourite obsession; I want your
autograph, your new cd, your face on a T.
Because...
It's always her.
You had a dream, but this ain't it.
My present to you is something I want
to find under the tree on Christmas day.
Me.
Faith; leathers hugging like I got dipped into
them.
Faith; painted in sexual tension, dripping
off me.
Faith; the fantasy that gets you wet and makes
you hate yourself after.
I'm your present, B.
Because...
It's always her.
Everybody's so infatuated
I don't check to see who's looking 'cause I
don't care.
Prim, proper, good girl supreme.
Let me help you across the road?
Do you want my seat?
The last one? You have it!
I'm looking at the one--thing--that
matters.
Then my lips are kissing that thing.
Giving her present up, because...
It's always her.
My hands softly in her hair, stealing the feeling
for my fantasies later.
It's always her.
My tongue touching hers.
It's always her.
Her starting to kiss me back.
It's always her.
Me pulling away.
It's always her.
Her: shock, licking me off her lips, still.
Me: Flash of teeth as I grin, a slow wink,
and then I'm gone.
Wham-bam-thank you-ma'am.
Buffy Summers, I'm your teen slut, whore explosion.
And you're my favourite obsession.