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“Oh, yes, the sex was great,” you said,
“and I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”
Then I laughed and made some jibe
about our innocence that had long left us,
and the world spun at a pace I could easily match in stride,
a pace we met together.

So go ahead, paint your face however you like,
tell everyone you're into metal and the devil and you're bi,
but no matter how hard you try you'll never be good enough
—not for me and everyone else but for yourself.
You think you're so much above—taking love and making it
—but your only objective is taking a heart and breaking it
even if the only heart you break is your own.


Tie up your hair, tear off your clothes, show everyone your qualities
—well, only the fake ones they've known. Take off your belt,
bite your lip,
and this is it. Let the mirror reflect the hell you created to keep you in.

“Oh, yes, the sex was great,” you’d say,
“and I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”
Then I would laugh and joke of our loss of innocence,
and we would once again match pace with the ever-spinning world,

and while you're at it,
go ******** yourself since you don't seem to mind letting everyone else.