Poisoned Apple

Every step is taken on the wrong side. I keep believing that I'm part of something that I am not. I awake but I'm too nervous. The more you believe, the less I feel able to carry out these tasks. These ideas of love I'll never understand. The law of the land and everything inbetween. There always has to be something in your scene. I fell out of love and it's futile repetition. It's always the same. I know you won't agree because you'll always want new meat no matter where it's been.

The more I be honest with everyone, the more there comes rejection. Nobody wants honesty because then there's no sense of fun. There's no great challenge. Everything is destroyed and with that so is reality. I sometimes regret these decisions but with such precision, I like how all that was ever wanted is rejected. Give them an apple and they'll run a mile. I don't care if you need scientific evidence to see if the apple is poisoned - you'd only know if you'd take a bite.

Is it really just what we're here for. To run around. Sit and eat. Fuck and love. Is it really worth dying for? List my conquests. Travel the world to realise that no one ever feels the same way. Every disease ridden soul deserves another chance. But it's not so easy to wipe the slate clean. There's no harm but it still burns. Just to pass the time. Making ways to pass the time. Creating ways to pass the time. It's all you can do.

And you? What do you wish for? What's your desire? You like to be amazed. You like to be entertained. Do you question their sanity? Do you have a check list of what is your ideal primate? Do you keep the scores ticking over? Calculating every pro and con. Does it really matter that your ideas of perfection are futile. If perfection were so then we should clone each other but change their sex. Now that really would be unbearable.

Trading On Rotting Meat

I'm trading on rotting meat. It's fresh to you because you haven't seen it yet. It's all dressed up. Got a nice coat to go with the chops. Keep with it after a while and you'll see it. You'll really see what it is. You'll have torn off the disguise. You'll love it at first but the stench will soon put you off. We are lovers and we are repulsive meat. Drunk too much wine, I can't tell how well you've aged.

Trading on rotting meat. The smell becomes appealing after a while until it's devoured. Tasty morsels left on show. Leave the skin and bone until we become like dogs. Trap them in our dirty paws. We become like animals. It's all so sexual to you. Assertive. Aggressive. It's what anyone else would dream of. It's not what we're here for unless you read up on the rules and turn this thing around on us. We're all part of a game.

The Pool of Resources

All implications and devastations. All crossroads dreaming unto the next oblivion. All Saturday nights and Sunday mornings. I'm not supposed to live, just an automatic feeling because no one makes anything out of anyone. A future made in love, it's what you always dreamed of. Cold, cruel world but the things never make much sense. Procession, recession, progression. Cut back, until the feelings end. Until the damage is done. Until the pool of resources can take no more. Until the pool of resources can take no more. And the sense of worth is not all up to that.

Didn't See The Lights

It wasn't love but I knew it would never last. Seems like I'm some kind of one stop shop for the mentally balanced. A nuanced performance that an actor like me can know so well. I don't win any Oscars for it. I don't know why. I should relocate to Cannes or Venice. But I'll know it'll never work out. The further I drift, the further I fall.

But you seemed eager in the first place that I don't know why it's gone the way it has. Traded like a piece of meat on the market. Slaughter the cows until the bull comes home. Safer in the knowledge that I'm being direct and this is just my entertainment. I would've prolonged it but I don't call the shots round here. No I don't call the shots round here. I didn't fall but I enjoyed what was there.

I know it's never easy but I don't seem to have much luck. But to be honest I don't think I give a fuck. It wasn't mine for the taking and I didn't really bring it all in. There was no advantage to be played. Don't forget there was no advantage to be played.

You didn't see the lights you saw a dustman on your way. You didn't see the lights, it just wasn't meant to be. You didn't see the lights, you saw them in someone else. You didn't see the lights, you saw what you wanted to see. There's nothing more I can give, all hopeless conquests end up unhappy and so do those who fill themselves with hope.

And it all falls down like imaginary towers. I could count the hours and see the stars but there's just no way I will be able to lick the scars that appear on your skin. It's not enough just to take what was there into nothing. You must've been holding on for a kiss for too long. And I'm not man enough to suit your needs.

This Kinda Corners Me Off ( Exhaust )

Exhaust my paranoia. Exhaust my panic attacks. Because I'm in love. Exhaust my vulnerability. Exhaust my new found feelings. Because I'm in love with you.

This kinda corners me off. A sort of new found love. I've become like a zombie and it was only just for her. I fell in love if it meant that I could get that bit closer to her. Another death as it were. Don't misunderstand me, this makes me feel good. Don't misread my every thought because this is not my future, this is just something that's taking place as we speak. This is taking control, and I quite like it.

This kinda corners me off. The mood swings have begun and I know that when it's up sky high I'm flying free and when it sinks down to the ground well then I mask my inward thoughts and pretend that nothing is happening. But there will always be a clue if you read between the lines. There will always be a clue that you'll use against me. Politely I'll know the drama all around and seek assurances that my two feet are on the ground and if my head is in the clouds.

Exhaust my paranoia. Exhaust my panic attacks. Because I'm in love. Exhaust my vulnerability. Exhaust my new found feelings. Because I'm in love with you. You know what will happen because you're that telepathic.

Do Nothing But Surrender

Think I'm falling in love again. Thinking I'm losing my mind again. But I think she's worth it. I do nothing but surrender to her. I do nothing but surrender. The unconditional refrains of a love-crazed fool. The poison keeps on biting but this time it's too good to resist.

All It Takes Is A Pink Wig

I keep thinking about her especially when I see pictures of her with a pink wig on. She looks like a femme fatale. And I keep thinking I should give in, and stop the resistance. Maybe the last scorched remains of my sexuality are reactivating. I guess it's worth a shot. I don't even try anymore and that's how it should be. I can't be hopeful because I never hope at all unless I'm expecting the worse. If she put the pink wig on maybe I'd feel a flame or two of passion. If she swings, who knows if the pain will sting.....she's already paralyzed me when I look into her eyes.

And all it takes is a pink wig. Who'd have thought a wig would make things sexy again? It's not as if we're making radical changes. Maybe I should get myself a new syrup should the time arise when we play new games. Every picture close up, every pore. Clean beauty that does not cheapen. Looking for the rarity one by one. Looking for the rarity to keep with the fun. Love is almost kind but almost always blind. When you start to see, you know it's over and picking apart the fine pieces is to throw away everything you ever wanted and more

Shush! Somehow I always get the picture of a murderous vamp. Keep leading me, keep leading me. It's worth our while and I'll follow your trail by the bodies you pile in the bag. I'll follow your trail by the bodies you pile in the bag. Take a drive by the sea and dump the remains in the river.

And all it takes is a pink wig and my imagination goes wild. Start the scene of something new and we'll be off and away on a brand new day. But who knows what this kind of love can do? Just want a healthy illusion. Just want a healthy delusion. All it takes is a pink wig and I can say I'm yours.