Cigarettes on empty stomachs
Beaten by a reject lummox
Like a drum that’s crafted
by a concubine

This is what I’m turning into
You’re a glass I cannot see through
And I want someone to miss me
all the time

So, put it back
what you took was all I had
All my books can’t compare
to your hooks
All snaggin’ on

So I’m standing at a junction
looking for a way to function
and the signs are melting
like Italian ice

I just watch them as they flicker
Talking to a box of liquor
Licking lashes that surround
inviting eyes

So pull me back
to the place you erased
All your faces and your hooks
still stick in all the way
Still snaggin’ on my skin

All day I think of things to say in case
You make your way back to my place