Bulimic Beats

I thought we'd escape

I packed a fishin' line and counted on it

I thought we'd escape

I packed a fishin' line and counted on it

But dreamin' is for moon rise

And moonlight ails these tired eyes

I treat him like a lady

I treat him as I would he unto me

Give Rose, rose seller a run for her money

With silicone and poetry

But it's the end of me

I thought it could change

I'd wake up one mornin' and find nothin' to rearrange

I couldn't get there

Behind his wall of Sunday papers

(I thought it could change)

I'd wake up one mornin' and find nothin' to rearrange

But dreamin' is for moon rise

And moonlight ails these tired eyes

I treat him like a lady

I treat him as I would he unto me

Give Rose, rose seller a run for her money

With silicone and poetry

And it's the end of me

And here I am

Here I am

And here I stand

Here in my kitchen where

I'm familiar with every brand

Here I am

A front line with labels where

I witness custards last stand

Here I am