After all, you wouldn't want to miss
this part, where my self-restraint unravels
and the pretense falls away. It's just
a second too late
to stop, right after you tell me
you hope I'm happy (fucking
him, your eyes say, and baby
this smile is all for you) – well
you hope I'm so happy,
- yeah you hope it's just
perfect, and you're catching
bullets in your teeth: but
stick to what you're good at, dear;
self-destruction's still my line.