POEM: I know those faces on the billboards aren’t real
I know those faces on the billboards aren’t real And that their perfect skin is owed to PhotoShop That there’s a crew behind that makes
I know those faces on the billboards aren’t real And that their perfect skin is owed to PhotoShop That there’s a crew behind that makes
I fucked a clown It wasn’t fun He soon was done When I went down I fucked a clown Sucked his balloon It popped too
Why did we even part? I can’t remember The ways you broke my heart Or was it me? And did you leave in June Or
If you’re another complication Turn around and leave my sight Spare me your appreciation I don’t need another fight If you’re another cause for worry
A weight in my chest joins the one in my belly I sit and digest what I’ve heard, dull and smelly I’ll pick myself up
Ich hab mit dir mein letztes Hemd verschwitzt Mit keinem sonst wollt ichs riskier’n Wollt nicht, dass du nur schweigsam bei mir sitzt Bin nicht
I wonder what it’s like To live instead of wait For some potential fate A longed-for lucky strike I wonder how it feels To know
Kissing till our lips were burning We wondered what we’d done before All those months of painful yearning We erased down to the core Fucking
It’s not, you know, an easy thing To take those steps unplanned Not knowing what each day will bring Is something I can’t stand But
Don’t stay with me for twenty nights If you won’t stay for one Spare me the kind of joy that turns To pain when you