There is no last wordAnd there’s no final chapterJust more elipses…
I’m not saying thatMusic is everything, butYes, of course it is
Licensed to write you Pixie dust prescriptions and Supply happy thoughts.
I was born wildAnd have no intention of Letting you tame me.
Take hold of me andKeep my feet firmly plantedHigh above this earth.
I run on whiskeyJazz and electricity: There’s no stopping me.
I’m my own syndromeThere aren’t enough head-shrinkersIn the world for me
What guy wouldn’t want To be responsible forMaking my skirt twirl.
I’m interested In collapse, is that somethingYou could help me with?
The odds are alwaysEnormously against you,You just deal with it.
Just once I’d like to Not play nicely with othersAnd run with scissors
There’s no such thing asA saint without a past: that’sWhy they find His grace.
Let’s get excitedAnd spend the night helping eachOther destroy time.
I’ve always had anUnapologetic softSpot for jawbreakers.
Now you can replyThe cupcakes are moist and she Screams when you bite them