he won't talk to her anymore, because, like he says, she's
just a whore, and losing him shakes her to the core.
just want to be stronger, she says, don't want to feel this
any longer. but nobody believes her because the tears still come
and she's just a bundle of years to come. nerves snapping,
she's laughing, but that might just be a momentary high,
and when the smoke comes out with a sigh, she feels so much
better, and she lies. but nobody believes that she even tries
to quit, she just sits, and when the lighter's lit, she takes yet
another hit. addiction's a bitch because she's got an itch
and nothing can stop her, even not being rich.
she uses the telephone like another drug, and pretends that the
voices are as good as hugs, she pretends to bleed so they can feel
the tug of her pain, so they can see her tears like rain, so they
can ask her to explain. she's pathetic but she wants to be better,
wants to live without a tether. dreaming that she could be
beautiful without him, but somehow all she can say is whore.
he won't talk to her anymore. she stops caring when things hurt her.
she whispers to nobody at all, I'm strong, I'm beautiful,
and I'll never be his again.
she wants to touch everyone so that she can prove she can be strong.
(nobody can hurt her anymore because there's nothing left to hurt)