Your Whore is Crying at the Door
Why bother putting me back together?
I'll simply break into pieces later.
Why bother building me up again,
when in the end you'll just tear me down?
Your whore is crying at the door.
No, go on, it's fine.
I'll put myself to bed with
Xanax, and wait for you to come slinking home.
Will I get the strength,
through the drugged haze
to change the locks? Keep you out
from your rightful place by my side?
I'm just so tired.