Post by Gin-Uhhh 8D on May 30, 2008 21:03:49 GMT -5
Well let's see.
So there's sort of a story behind everything I do, right? Right.
Too bad I'm lazy; have fun with my little sputters (and, if you'd be so kind, don't humor me.)
Lollipops and Gum-Drops (or whatever I called this garbage)
Mother is the heartbeat,
Thumping at your plywood floor.
-Because she knows what you did, as do you.-
My father,
Oh,
My father,
Unknown to us both,
He is the pillar behind your wall,
Never seen,
Never heard,
But always
There;
In the
Back
Of
Your
Mind.
I am the one lounging in your chair,
You know it better than I,
That I control how you think,
How you feel,
How you breathe,
And you don’t care what I do,
As long as I don’t tell about
What you do.
And you,
I can’t bring myself to call you
‘step-father’
For that’s too…
Ick
To think about.
But you…
You dirty old man,
Are the closed doors,
What I never want to see open,
Because each room on the other side
Is dark and unwelcoming.
I know each family,
Each living room,
Has its stories and secrets,
But,
Dar-ling,
I think ours are a bit…
Too much.
A Place For Girls Like You (God, was I writing this at gun-point? I have an irrational hatred for exclamation marks.)
Oh deary!
Oh my!
Are you really the FBI?
I’ve stolen a quarters worth.
But do I deserve the worst punishment on earth?
Mister La Salle!
Please, don’t take me to jail!
Don’t make me your bride!
Don’t make me your wife!
For I am Miss Florence Homer.
I’m dead on the scene!
Just at fifteen!
You brought me to this, you know?
And it’s cold and I’m scared
And it’s worse than my cell.
But I swear
What you,
Frank La Salle,
Forced me through
Was worse than Hell,
Worse than jail,
Worse than the worse you should think of.
Because remember my soul,
Innocence of my own,
Taken even before twelve.
And I’m dead on the scene,
Not quite sixteen.
I should’ve just taken the punishment.
I have other stuff but... oh, look at the time.
So there's sort of a story behind everything I do, right? Right.
Too bad I'm lazy; have fun with my little sputters (and, if you'd be so kind, don't humor me.)
Lollipops and Gum-Drops (or whatever I called this garbage)
Mother is the heartbeat,
Thumping at your plywood floor.
-Because she knows what you did, as do you.-
My father,
Oh,
My father,
Unknown to us both,
He is the pillar behind your wall,
Never seen,
Never heard,
But always
There;
In the
Back
Of
Your
Mind.
I am the one lounging in your chair,
You know it better than I,
That I control how you think,
How you feel,
How you breathe,
And you don’t care what I do,
As long as I don’t tell about
What you do.
And you,
I can’t bring myself to call you
‘step-father’
For that’s too…
Ick
To think about.
But you…
You dirty old man,
Are the closed doors,
What I never want to see open,
Because each room on the other side
Is dark and unwelcoming.
I know each family,
Each living room,
Has its stories and secrets,
But,
Dar-ling,
I think ours are a bit…
Too much.
A Place For Girls Like You (God, was I writing this at gun-point? I have an irrational hatred for exclamation marks.)
Oh deary!
Oh my!
Are you really the FBI?
I’ve stolen a quarters worth.
But do I deserve the worst punishment on earth?
Mister La Salle!
Please, don’t take me to jail!
Don’t make me your bride!
Don’t make me your wife!
For I am Miss Florence Homer.
I’m dead on the scene!
Just at fifteen!
You brought me to this, you know?
And it’s cold and I’m scared
And it’s worse than my cell.
But I swear
What you,
Frank La Salle,
Forced me through
Was worse than Hell,
Worse than jail,
Worse than the worse you should think of.
Because remember my soul,
Innocence of my own,
Taken even before twelve.
And I’m dead on the scene,
Not quite sixteen.
I should’ve just taken the punishment.
I have other stuff but... oh, look at the time.