minimalism

I wish I could eat the salt off of your lost faded lips.
We can cap the old times make playing only logical harm.
We can top the old lines clay-making that nothing else will change.
But she can read, she can read, she can read, she can read, she's bad.
Oh, she's bad.

It's different now that I'm poor and aging, I'll never see this face again.
You go stabbing yourself in the neck.
It's different now that I'm poor and aging, and I'll never see this place again.
And you go stabbing yourself in the neck.

We can find new ways of living make playing only logical harm.
And we can top the old times, clay-making that nothing else will change.
But she can read, she can read, she can read, she can read, she's bad.
Oh, she's bad.

It's in the way that she posed.
It's in the things that she puts in my hair.
Her stories are boring and stuff.
She's always calling my bluff.
She puts the weights into my little heart,
And she gets in my room and she takes it apart.
She puts the weights into my little heart,
I said she puts the weights into my little heart.

She packs it away

It's in the way that she walks.
Her heaven is never enough.
She puts the weights in my heart.
She puts, oh she puts the weights into my little heart.