And don’t pretend you don’t know me.
Laced in cigarette curls and two-shot coronas,
When you’re drinking at three in the morning, baby, nothing says I love you like
A
Mouthful
Of
Vomit.
Favorite school girl, favorite grades, favorite sociality.
Read me like a textbook, perfectly planned,
Perfectly systematic,
Memorize.
I’ll tell you all about the pencils and the biology class day-dreaming if you tell me what the city lights mean, rockstar.
I’m buried between Napoleon and Lenin,
And where are you Mr. Louis the XVI?
King of Nothing, with his obsessive Queen of Stupidity.
Off, off, off!
They must die to mark the beginning of a revolution!
When I’m playing the role of executioner, I’m licking my blade and dragging it across the page,
Because nothing hurts more then my grin and your eyes,
And nothing hurts more then those god damn lies,
And I can’t love you more, rockstar.
I can’t love you more.

They don’t teach us that in school.