my manic sweetheart a million miles west,|
why can''t he feel me laying on his chest
looking in my direction cause I am a nasty little pest.
smother sweets with love, smother sweets with fear.
the color of his eyes holding vague hints of what is near.
nothing is reliable except for the sex,
drowning in my lonesomeness wondering who is a bigger mess...
my manic sweetheart or me the nasty little pest....