The Art of Blowing Glass vs The Art of Breaking It

A pimp like Dumbledore, a whore like Mother Mary Tele-vanglists keep closets full of fairies Pet truck stop lot lizards and aged cherry I saw her crying at the drive-in, thought her bruises was cute The sick heart is a carnival and we're just passing through Something told me to run, never could trust the truth Happiness is warm cum, bang bang, shoot shoot There are worst things than being alone Or so it goes, take her number out my phone And play a song that I know on the stereo She will come around like a merry-go And there we go, menthol lights and diet cherry coke Her breath smells of formaldehyde and a thousand guys When we would drive the mountain side and try her mother's wine But I can never find the time cause she's dead behind the eyes Besides; the only chemistry is pride She's to naive; which is why she always dry heave And wear the wild fits to make the guys scream for ice cream I need to get my eyes off of her high-beams But when I try and leave she always finds me, the size queen Her skin is paper and her spine is just a string She's had a couple partner's but it's tighter than you think There are worst thing's than being alone, I know I know but I was at a low when I had her at hello And if I told her once I must've told her thirty times before Just a man taking what he needs from the store But she wanted more, and can i bum another smoke? Sleeping through september waking up beside a ghost There are worst things than being alone, I sold my soul For a firm set of titties and a shallow barren hole She said she wishes it was only just the two of us I love you like my first time shootin' up She said her past has got nothing to do with us Do a bump or two of adderall and get all loosened up I searched the cabbage patch nebula and it gave me a garbage pail kid She made all my abortions as true as they is And every sunset and apocalypse a lost heart I loved you so crazy I lost my art; Joan of Arc Baby, I was lost to start