My baby's got the bends
We don't have any real friends
I'm just lying in a bar with my drip feed on
Talking to my girlfriend
Waiting for something to happen
And I wish it was the sixties
I wish I could be happy
I wish
I wish
I wish that something would happen

we're just a million little gods causing rain storms turning every good thing to rust.

houses move and houses speak
if you take me then you'll get
relief
relief

the raindrops

Time is like a juicy tomato-flavored nail polish trapped in a tiny bottle waiting to come out and hurt the eyes. 5:52 pm and I just want to pass out.
Constant CAPS typing and broken promises of never going to bed angry all melt away into a silvery liquid when you stroke my hair and tell me how beautiful I really am.

i can spin a story
better than yo mama's pancakes

carve your name into my arm
instead of stressed, i lie here charmed.

be constructive with your blues

The heartache did not come from the fact that pseudo-love had been lost. It did not spring from the fact that another stupid, silly boy had not realized her worth. It came from that fact that he did. It was hard being reminded of your place in the world. No, you are not all that, no, you may not have everything your way, no, you're not really as beautiful or amazing or intelligent or mysterious as you think you are.
That is what was hard to get over, and not the actual boy.