there's an itch blooming from between my shoulder blades
can't quite stretch my blood-starved muscles up to satisfy it
and my trigger finger's terribly preoccupied
with the will-she-won't-she face-the-music part of it
that's the rub, i can't even find a corner to lean into
truman show, two-way mirror everyone can see me through
lights off, fuse blown, feelin for the switch
jumpstart the engine, international circuit
reset the spring, cut away the final string
superfluous to flight, falling sandbags swing
sloughing extra weight and gaining height like a teen
head up in the clouds, conquer mountains like a queen
and if you feelin guilty it's the bile in your spleen
bundle up the past, douse it all in kerosene
it's how we clean, we destroy, fire after we employ
the final exodus, no lasting sight to enjoy
i'm loyal, and you certainly play favorites
and the timbre of your voice is so solicitous
fatally susceptible to cycles that turn vicious
subtly persuasive tendency toward superstitious
soliloquy so circular when solitude's addressed
leave yourself hard-pressed not to include me in your conquest
invested in the thrill of taking stock in temptations
earthquake can only terrorize the reach of its vibrations
and fault lines draw the cracking plates together then apart
racking my confidence, shattering my heart
and if we're categorizing geologically,
i fall into the lines and lines of sediment
the more i wish myself impervious bionically
the less success i have at dissolving the detriment
fierce blush when you catch me live and on air
unable to disguise my weakness for the debonair
yeah grrl
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