A box.
A black shiny box.
Where is the fascination
That you express for this thing?
You can't stop talking
Of the marvels you find inside.
'My baby- she's mean.'
Now she's your girl
Your pockets empty 'cause of her
I've been thrown off to the side.
Left to sit and wonder
If ever you will remember
About a girl from your memory.
I'm more real than that box
That black shiny box
With its screeching tyres and hollow moans.
I'm a girl with emotions
Better than cold devotions.
What do you see in that thing?
That that black shiny thing
To leave me on the side?
