July 27th 2016 by Qixote Lyrics
I wish I never fell for you
Ever since I did, I think I’ve compromised myself for us
Illusions of moving forward, of making progress
Stopped us from hearing the truth—that He was out for us
That the foreword was the ending, the horror never-ending
The mortar detrimental to the floorboards and the ceilings
Of our quarters. Two shellfish boiling, cornered into borders
Of our former selves
Only Junot Diaz sees us. “Sias
Cheaters live a burning hell,” he wrote in the New Yorker
I ignored him, put my fork in. I ignored him, took my girl
Friend’s girlfriend out for sorbet. Ordered soymilk latte
Poured it on her body—luckily it didn’t scald her
When my girlfriend called her, I just held my breath
And let her talk. I’m just kidding, but you bought it, huh?
This is what I’m speaking of—you trust me like a zebra
Trusts a cheetah
I can’t say I’m any better
But how much does it matter that we don’t trust each other?
How much does it matter that we don’t fuck each other? (that all we do is fuck?)
I’m all done 1040-ing my spirit. Three hundred thirty-five
Minutes of seamless dreaming is all it took to see that we can’t be
Together but in fantasy. I keep thinking of you, me
And she in Biology 103
She’s telling me, “You better not be copying me.”
“I-I-I’m just embodying the body that swings and rots in the tree
The body that he (by he I mean your Papa Joey), dropped like a key
Now stop speaking please, and start pleasing the
Beaner. Focus on lust. My demeanor is covered in rust
Because fieldwork makes turns my skin to crust
Ah I’m so disjointed. My joints itch and there’s nothing for me
To scratch them with. Isn’t this game a pointless pencil?
Aren’t we both writing on papercuts? Isn’t the only ointment Trust?
Ever since I did, I think I’ve compromised myself for us
Illusions of moving forward, of making progress
Stopped us from hearing the truth—that He was out for us
That the foreword was the ending, the horror never-ending
The mortar detrimental to the floorboards and the ceilings
Of our quarters. Two shellfish boiling, cornered into borders
Of our former selves
Only Junot Diaz sees us. “Sias
Cheaters live a burning hell,” he wrote in the New Yorker
I ignored him, put my fork in. I ignored him, took my girl
Friend’s girlfriend out for sorbet. Ordered soymilk latte
Poured it on her body—luckily it didn’t scald her
When my girlfriend called her, I just held my breath
And let her talk. I’m just kidding, but you bought it, huh?
This is what I’m speaking of—you trust me like a zebra
Trusts a cheetah
I can’t say I’m any better
But how much does it matter that we don’t trust each other?
How much does it matter that we don’t fuck each other? (that all we do is fuck?)
I’m all done 1040-ing my spirit. Three hundred thirty-five
Minutes of seamless dreaming is all it took to see that we can’t be
Together but in fantasy. I keep thinking of you, me
And she in Biology 103
She’s telling me, “You better not be copying me.”
“I-I-I’m just embodying the body that swings and rots in the tree
The body that he (by he I mean your Papa Joey), dropped like a key
Now stop speaking please, and start pleasing the
Beaner. Focus on lust. My demeanor is covered in rust
Because fieldwork makes turns my skin to crust
Ah I’m so disjointed. My joints itch and there’s nothing for me
To scratch them with. Isn’t this game a pointless pencil?
Aren’t we both writing on papercuts? Isn’t the only ointment Trust?