| boring and flat demeanor stuck into her head with a knife caught by her utter savior save the flowers for me and the thorn to prick in my side caught in virginal suicide dying i'm lost and yet i'm found inside i'm crying, but i'm bound for all time and it's so-sold-vegetation eating my vegetables never made me stronger on the inside vunerable to the touch my brilliant impatients and their side conversations take hold caught in a gossamer web empty i'm lost and yet i'm found inside i'm crying yet i'm bound for all time and it's so-sold-vegetation |
| I'm messing with a mass media mind She flips channels without a thought Posters of naked men line her walls i don't look like her at all. Bad vision doesn't bother her. Nor does getting stares while shopping. She diets by breaking the mirror. why can't i be more like her? Self-confidence cuts like a knife and it shows on her face When she goes home her facade descends in disgrace It's lasted for another day. The strain put there by pretending. why aren't i her anymore? She stares out the window and She knows she's got it all whenever she feels. Sometimes I don't think she feels at all. She gives more to life and I feel small She kisses the boys and huddles with the girls. Trapped inside her perfect world. Nothing fazes or gets a reaction. can't i have a little satisfaction? Self-confidence cuts like a knife and it shows on her face When she goes home her facade descends in disgrace It's lasted for another day. The strain put there by pretending. why aren't i her anymore? I wonder what she does at home. Cuz her schoolwork is never done. Popularity should have a price. why don't people call me nice? I'm messing with a mass media mindset. A significant portion of the population cries. When the bubble is gone, some one must carry on, That girl with the confident face. |
| ANGER not giving happy endings hidings not talking not giving hard lousy lost mental pollution exclamation points all over i thought about the magnitude of hate |
| so desolate in you and you're so far away this insidious motion will die today love me too cuz i love you there's really two conversations going on looking into your eyes i can find something to despise at all times cuz i love you take me into your darkness when i can see the light beyond the door take me into your warm arms and we'll screw the light together when i slam my hand against you i know you cherish that moment when i see the red rush towards your skin i know i cherish you we really have nothing going on here as i push away another fake tear and you say the fakest three words i've heard we're all about miscommunication now take me into your darkness where i can see the light byeond the door when the light becomes the rays around us you're so far away i'm so gone from here you're so far away i don't know what to say |
| I have this issue with skinny people, where they are all arms, bones, and legs, and there is nothing in between those arms, bones, and legs to constitute a real person. Maybe they should eat some fat to create mass on their bones. To be closer to a real person. Maybe some nice juicy red beef steak to put some nice juicy red meat on those Bones Those arms and legs People are constantly writing, Thinking, Caring, "Oh I wish I could be skinny like those people." All those arms, bones, and legs I have a different view. That arms, bones, and legs hurt when you run into something Knobby knees that go pop around a corner aren't something to be desired I enjoy my flesh, the meat between my arms, bones, and legs the things that give me form and substance, my ass which cushions my injuries when i fall. You don't see me broken, bending in odd places and easily hurt. I'm not all arms, bones, and legs, And I have a feeling I'm something better, Self esteem will not be compromised to those arms, bones, and legs in women's magazines. I'm constantly writing, Thinking, Caring, "If only they could be like me." |
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