Too much of you got into my system, baby
and no I don’t want one of those.
These pills are making me nauseous
next time we’ll be more cautious
when we’re takin’ off each other’s clothes.
Fluorescents flicker above my head in an outdated room
I want it dead. I smoke another cigarette.
Stuck behind a school bus on the way
and I just had to look away.
My face is red, my hands they shake.
I soak my words in menstrual war paint
and I sing them satisfied with no restraint.
Waiting room smells like regret and passion
Haven’t felt the first one but I’ve felt the last one
The only fucking son I want is shining in the sky
Not growing up inside of me thanks to some fucking guy.
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