Tuesday, April 8, 2008

Listening to

Eef Barzelay. Bitter Honey.

You put your hands upon it-But it only ever squirms-You're staring in the mirror-And you're counting every germ-I'm not surprised she left you-That she found the nerve to tell-The thing you claim to love so much-You don't do very well

I'm sure someone will love you-'Til the day that you must die-And someone will mourn for you-With bitter, tear stained eyes-Will this be enough for you-You got them in your spell-Because the thing you claim to hate-You do it very well

Was it written in the stars-Or in your mother's gut-Will you be as pure as snow-Or just some angry mutt-The price of it has just gone down-And you did not think to sell-But in doing all these hateful things-You are unparallel-At doing all these hurtful things-You really do excel

The truthfulness must leave the room-If I ever wish you well

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