Tonight You Stooped To My Level,
I Am Your Mangy Little Whore,
Now You're Trying To Find Your Underwear,
Then Your Socks, And Then The Door.
And Your Trying To Find A Reason
Why You Have To Leave.
But I Know Its Cause You Think You're Adam
You Think I'm Eve.
You Rhapsodize About Beauty
My Eyes Glaze
Everything I Love Is Ugly
I Mean Really, You Would Be Amazed.
Just Do Me A Favor,
It's The Least That You Can Do.
Just Don't Treat Me Like I Am
Something That's Happened To You.
Cause I Am,
I Am Truly Sorry About All This.
You Put A Tiny Pin Prick
In My Big Red Balloon,
And As I Slowly Start To Exhale,
That's When You Leave The Room.
And I Did Not Design This Game.
I Did Not Name The Stakes,
I Just Happen To Like Apples
And Am Not Afraid Of Snakes.
But I Am,
I Am Truly Sorry About This.
And I Envy You,
Your Ignorance.
I Hear That Its Bliss.
So I Let Go The Ratio
Of Things Said To Hings Heard,
As I Leave You To Your Garden,
And The Beauty You Preferred.
And I Wonder What Of This Will Have Meaning
For You When You've Left It All Behind.
I Think I'll Even Wonder If You Meant It At The Time.