He's not a charmer, he just has nice hands. i bet you, baby, that he can't even dance.
Darling, let's drink wine, and
Dirty Chasers,
spin in chairs, lick the wax from
erasers. never let the world see
those brackish kisses,
slide down cheeks. cover up the misses.
Darling, let's smoke, and
learn to shimmy.
sleep in our clothes and
wake up tipsy.
dripping with sweat, burning
hangover sorrows,
drown them in the same fools
that we're gonna f--k tomorrow.
--
Darling, we'll guzzle love in our
clear, flute glasses
nevermind their stares,
just loosen up, shake our
asses.
on a few table tops,
(we're strong, cry later)
doesn't matter if our eyes blur
the ink on his paper
(cheap ink, anyway)
Darling, we're
fabulous.
let's dedicate the next round of
Dirty Chasers to us.
sip like ladies.
cheat like men.
laugh out loud,
break all those damned pens.
that taught us when we were
younger
that God is
within our reach.
and that books get the same looks as
lipstick/mascara
and that the lighter you are
the harder he'll fall, or
is it the other way around?
the same bullshit we heard in
Elementary school
seems to still stand its ground.
Darling, blow out those
crimson candles, kiss
Jesus goodbye
make a wish on the
molten handles,,
make a wish and suck me dry.
Party ends in
honey-scented
fevers, but
we're okay,
we dug our hole
deeper.
payed our debts to Hell
even the ones we don't believe in
like sex and those
(wounded)
seasons..
read a few verses to
remind ourselves;
give Satan the satisfaction of
a bit more help.
--
Darling, bat your lashes
ink-stained, but alright.
hide the liquor in the
dryer,
save those demons for another night..
