Cigarette butts on the floor
make my eyes soar.
Our music is playing on the record;
makes my ears feel a little obscure.
Gonna sneak out on you
just to check if I’m still inside,
inside your shelter,
but you’re creeping like a gazebo.
Doomed, as what I really am.
Now I need to rip you off my core;
it’ll bleed a river for sure.
But deep under this burning liquor,
I haven’t found any cure.