teeth, there used to be fangs
my god, you're getting lost in the wake
of your surrender
and it makes me think
or it makes me pray
feeling all the smoke hanging on your breath
you say you're so sick of the rest
you get so stuck
feelings that you know you touch
know a thing or two about it
that porch, cigarettes on the couch
my front door, to keep the bad women out
you take the pictures
I'll just stand in them
or out there
asking all the questions Oedipa gives
the paranoid sticks to your lips
but you're in luch
lonely dreams for lonesome us
fuck with me you know I got it
that pain
calling out your name
catching you in bed clothes
scratching up your bedpost
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