i'm losing you, i'm losing all control.
There is scientific data to support any cosmopolitan bullshit you may or may not pull out of your ass. And we’ll all sit just around in this middle class restaurant with diet cokes contemplating why blondes may, or may not, have more fun. We aren’t doing anything useful with our time-but that’s okay, because there’s a fifty-fifty chance we could all fail. Think about that Mr. Youcandoanythingifyoujustputyourmindto-it. Oh yes, I went there. The same way I’m about to tell you that the tooth fairy is your mom after the 11 o’clock news is over and Santa brought you that awesome Barbie dream house but he took part of your college tuition with him.
So go ahead and tell me to stop being so cynical when we’re all going to die of lung cancer even though 20% of us don’t smoke because secondhand smoke kills and a few bitchy girls in the corner are counting on it. We’re all waiting for Christmas so we have a palpable incentive to act happy because otherwise people will just assume your doctor upped your dosage of Paxil and no one likes people to know what they keep in their medicine cabinet.
I miss your lips pressed against my forehead
&i'm remembering how invincible we were
when it didn't matter that i refused to
listen to you sing over the phone.
but now your favorite acoustic ballad is
crooning through little white earbuds
and i savor every chord, voluntarily.
so tell me, are you grateful for the rise and fall of my cracked sternum?
or is my standing before you just a waste of electricity?
♥♥♥
So go ahead and tell me to stop being so cynical when we’re all going to die of lung cancer even though 20% of us don’t smoke because secondhand smoke kills and a few bitchy girls in the corner are counting on it. We’re all waiting for Christmas so we have a palpable incentive to act happy because otherwise people will just assume your doctor upped your dosage of Paxil and no one likes people to know what they keep in their medicine cabinet.
I miss your lips pressed against my forehead
&i'm remembering how invincible we were
when it didn't matter that i refused to
listen to you sing over the phone.
but now your favorite acoustic ballad is
crooning through little white earbuds
and i savor every chord, voluntarily.
so tell me, are you grateful for the rise and fall of my cracked sternum?
or is my standing before you just a waste of electricity?
♥♥♥