Hate Myself

Psychopath.

So how should I begin this?
I guess it started when you were with him
And how he never even took you out to dance
But did he fuck with any rhythm?
But now he's playing with your head
But did he ever make you come?
Did he ever make you cry?
Do the wires in your mind get sewn together
Rubbed and severed by the head
You don't know how long
I could start into your picture
And wish that it was me
I guess it's different cause you love him
But I've got an interactive
Sick and twisted imagination
And that's gotta count for something

I dreamt I was standing in your doorstep
Licking sweat off of your forehead
With my finger in your mouth
And the sound when leather jackets hit the ground
You should hear when you're not around
When it's just us horny poets
Who can't wait to write it down
And swear we were only being being honest
Do you like these little sonnets
Cause I wrote them just for you
But how quickly they turn sour
So be careful who you screw
And never call
And I'm starting to suspect
You don't intend to do anything you say at all