You Fooled Me
I'm so tired of not being good enough. I'm tired of bringing girls flowers and hearing them say that they just got out of something or that I'm coming on too strong. I'm tired of holding hands in a quiet dark bar, and going home with them and listening to their music and sleeping with them and becoming filled with hope and hope and hope only to find out I was just some kind of self-serving diversion. I'm tired of going to work, buzzed at the thought of you, while you secretly dread what it was you allowed. You fooled me. You lied you lied you lied. Time is running out for me. What the fuck do you think I've got in my chest? A gym sock? A water pump? Thank you for fucking me - both ways. You'll never undrstand or care, but it meant more to me to hold you and sleep in your apartment and talk to you and have you trust me than it did to fuck you. I guess I just ain't good enough. Why did you hold my hand that night? Why did you look at me that way? Why did I trust you? Why? Why? Why!