you and me, we're pulling knives out of backs like it's going out of style -
with the way you've been talking it, you'd think you'd walk it something special.
backstreet doctors prescribing pills to make up for something less prevalent.
i know, i know, we've been here too many times before, she says
but god it just feels so good this way.
faces flash in compacts, tucking notes into half-price lingerie she swears on his life she's telling the truth -
slipping and sweating apologies and prayers in the left side of the confessional booth.
he's been convicted for fraud of pretending to be adored.
degeneration.
to hell with our good reputations.
these are kisses goodnight under the lampost, out of sight, to fuck the cliche of by the front door.
i'm just the girl afraid of second chances.
sad steps.
say yes.
