Your hopeless little tragedies
Spill so hopelessly on the floor.
The ones that take over all the attention,
The ones so goddamn impossible to ignore.
The not so gentle news
Is burning away, all this trust once built
Built for no reason at all,
For why should I trust someone who knows no guilt?
The not so brilliant light
Didn’t exactly hide your figures,
On the ground as you lay not so motionless,
With the immoral girl you’ve known for years.
All I really long for
Is to make this paranoia subside,
And know that everything is exemplary
And that the girl’s answering your phone
Means you have nothing to hide.
The stories I hear after years of romantics,
The rumors that spread so lightning fast,
This nausea is something way beyond Maalox.
It’s permanently built in to last.