A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z #

Future of the Left

"Hey Precious"

Writing a song about something literal
Breaks her heart in two
She feels communication in its purest form
Should be feral, untapped, or just plain weird
I don't disagree
But disagreeing would involve a conversation
I'd have to look her in the eye
And hear her voice
Greasing and slipping the words
From the grip of her slow heart
And leaving them
Aghast on her iPod dock

Writing a song about God
Strikes her as the ultimate act of rebellion
Against herself
That's the kind of thing she says
Writing a song about God
Strikes her as the ultimate act of rebellion
Against herself
That's the kind of thing she says

She is super human
She will only admit to missing her love
On radio phone-ins
Sitting on the toilet
Staring at pictures of famous women crying
She knows the roles, the rhythms

Writing a song about God
Strikes her as the ultimate act of rebellion
Against herself
That's the kind of thing she says
Writing a song about God
Strikes her as the ultimate act of rebellion
Against herself
That's the kind of thing she says

Hey, precious!
I'm talking to you from the medium of time travel
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, we invented it in 2015
I'm still alive, but you're not
Now brace yourself
Because in the future irony isn't funny anymore
Our jokes [?]
What's that, precious?
You want a star interview?
You want a statue?
You want me to steal the [?] weeping at its feet?
Well, here's the thing
I honestly forgot to tell your parents that you died
Well, they immigrated thinking you were a total b*t*h

A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z #


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