Wendy, Wendy, Wendy.
Wendy's back in Neverland; a grown-up among the boys. She (s)mothers them with flirtation and flattery, adn lets them have their way with her.
She doesn't mind, she likes the make-believe, she lives to play-along.
The innocent have few secrets, teh guilty have all. She is all grown up, incredibly adult, and guilty as fuck. Innocence lasts only as long as you fly out the window; as opposed to crawling out and being caught. She keeps getting caught.
She toys with the Lost Boys; weaves them into the fabric of their own imaginary games. She pieces them together with hand-jobs and blow-jobs, then smashes them apart by ignoring their wolf-whistle-calls for days. She puts the Lost Boys back in their box, like a disjoined puzzle - but leaves the trickiest bits still pieced together so that she can open the box, rebuild, and then tear them apart ever quicker.
Wendy leaves her window open at teh end of each night, and tucks herself into bed. Wendy closes it each morning, to keep teh pollen and butterflies out.
(Bless you.)
When the night falls again, Peter flies in, and always without his shadow. She'll pin it back in place; and fall from the windowsill into his arms, to be carried back away with him to Neverland and his hoard of Lost Boys. She'll pin down his shadow and hang over his shoulder, all the way back into dreams of innocence.
She is all grown up, incredibly adult,
and guilty as fuck.
She doesn't mind, she likes the make-believe, she lives to play-along.
The innocent have few secrets, teh guilty have all. She is all grown up, incredibly adult, and guilty as fuck. Innocence lasts only as long as you fly out the window; as opposed to crawling out and being caught. She keeps getting caught.
She toys with the Lost Boys; weaves them into the fabric of their own imaginary games. She pieces them together with hand-jobs and blow-jobs, then smashes them apart by ignoring their wolf-whistle-calls for days. She puts the Lost Boys back in their box, like a disjoined puzzle - but leaves the trickiest bits still pieced together so that she can open the box, rebuild, and then tear them apart ever quicker.
Wendy leaves her window open at teh end of each night, and tucks herself into bed. Wendy closes it each morning, to keep teh pollen and butterflies out.
(Bless you.)
When the night falls again, Peter flies in, and always without his shadow. She'll pin it back in place; and fall from the windowsill into his arms, to be carried back away with him to Neverland and his hoard of Lost Boys. She'll pin down his shadow and hang over his shoulder, all the way back into dreams of innocence.
She is all grown up, incredibly adult,
and guilty as fuck.