Drifter

Take a look at heartbreak

’cause this is what I’ve become

 

   [heartbreak]

 

in a hotel where the sun never sets

and the air is always warm and the bed

is always hard and the bed never vibrates

unless there’s a woman lying beneath me

on dingy sheets over bleached where

the headboard has no handle and where

I’m always asked what I want out of life

like I had an angle on life based on the way

I fucked as if my moans and groans and

thrusts knew the secret to happiness

 

The truth is, is that my heart is broken

excavated a thousand times by selfish

and superficial women disguised as Indian dolls

in long black braided hair and weary eyes

who have helped themselves to a great scalping

and now pieces of my heart sit as trophies

in their tinker toy drawers and I’m left holding

this vacant heart made of stone and ash

 

And the last woman who left me tonight

did not put up a fight with herself to stay

she had complained that the beer was hot

and that drifters were the worst kind of men

’cause they were unstable, unable and incapable

of being nothing more than a broken heart

 

So why do I feel so fucking disappointed?

 

Advertisements

Post A Comment

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s