Wednesday, June 08, 2005

:: Ovaries ::

This is the moment that you know-
That you told her that you loved her but you don't

You touched her skin and then you think
That she is beautiful, but she don't mean a thing to me.
Yeah she is beautiful, but she don't mean a thing to me

I spent two weeks in Silverlake, the California sun cascading down my face
There was a girl with light brown streaks,

And she was beautiful, but she didn't mean a thing to me
Yeah she was beautiful, but she didn't mean a thing to me

I wanted to believe in all the
words that I was speaking as we
moved together in the dark...

And all the friends that I was telling
all the playful misspellings and
every bite I gave that left a mark.

Then tiny vessels oozed into your neck
and formed the bruises that you
said you didn't want to fade;

...But they did and so did I, that day.

All I see are dark gray clouds
in the distance moving closer with every hour

So when you'd ask, "Is something wrong?" (I'd think)
"You're damn right there is,
but we can't talk about it now."
...No we can't talk about it now.

So one last touch and
then you'll go

...and we'll pretend that it meant something so much more

But it was vile and
it was cheap and

...you are beautiful but you don't mean a thing to me


Yeah, you are beautiful but you don't mean a thing to me.
Yeah, you are beautiful but you don't mean a thing to me.

_
spoken. at 2:19 PM