Why - Paper Hearts lyrics

rate me

To be born is anything but this

The dying wish of a dinosaur's dish

Of no use, a shitty gift like a single slipper

I go diffuse in city quick like the little dipper

She's cute with little titties and a sense of humor

But to tell you the truth, sir

I pity the poor fool, her

Fruitless in a holster and clueless in a kiss

I'm older than death

Vulgar with unfresh breath

During sex I might put us in some joke positions

But it's scary always how we end up in missionary

Like the daring men who fight to submission

Barely conscious there to care about the split decision

Your sour thoughts you wield at me

You wring out your melon

But it yields only drops like an unripe lemon

All a man can understand is your bad intentions

The less you talk the more you draw and seal and ending

Keep leafing through the glossary

Sitting there puffing weed

Telling me repeatedly all the things you want to be

The thug's just a boy once my money in the bags

Is your love but a ploy like Bugs Bunny in drag?

I leave my lungs open, exposed to the whole crew

While you sneak a bump and smoke cloves in the coat room

Itching like a local ho

Wishing like Pinocchio

The wind is at my back anew

But still I feel the lack of you

Oh, you were so heavy in my heart, boo

That soon no longer could my true heart hold you

And like the angular Etruscan tchotchke my mom got me

At the Met gift shop in '92

Tearing from the brown paper bag I kept it in when it was new

After I left it overnight when it was wet with dew

It sounds blue and shitty

But of course kid, like the little skinny bronze horse did

You fell through

You were like a buoy I put down in open ocean

But with no cross staff and no compass in my possession

And too far out for a lighthouse to provide discretion

How could I presume that you'd divine direction

Must have patience

Accept no imitations

Take no paper hearts and fucking hate carnations

Though my home is vacant

Yeah I'm lonesome while I wait

That's no open invitation made to hope we make acquaintance

The long walks home from the laundromat

In Pop-Pop's Holden Caulfield hat

Alone, lost for certain

Dry and pent

Dead bent like a merchant ivory gent

Yes, to yet get a spouse and kids

Have a house full

But I'm hard to be around

And sterile as a roused mule

Preemptive nostalgia of the possible but doubtful

Preemptive nostalgia of the possible but doubtful

And always something reminds me of you