Give me back my pictures of me.
Me, you, and him that makes three.
It figures the wheezing will measure your rate of depress
and I hope that you know.
Like a bitch in heat I hope she know.
So put another penny in and turn the crank until the frames
cease to move and the movie turns into a photo,
a photo the size of a kiss I hope she knows.
Staring at a Parisian sex flick where the characters don't meet,
the characters don't speak, and the characters are
like mirrors facing mirrors:
space always expanding.
So put another coin in and turn the crank until the frames
cease to move and the movie turns into a photo,
a photo the size of my fist I hope she knows.
A hiccup in paradise
I keep you jealously to myself,
in a photo the size of a kiss,
a kiss in the shape of a bullet.
On phone lines and letterhead, I'm dying about.I'm dying about.
On phone lines and letterhead, I'm dying about. I'm dying about.
I've watched you whore yourself out for one more thing.
Why don't you sell yourself.
There's always one more thing.
Why don't you sell yourself.
If I can't have you know one will.
Pushing a lover to love another.
Are you turned on?
A hiccup in paradise
I keep you jealously to myself,
in a photo the size of a kiss,
a kiss in the shape of a bullet.
I keep you jealously to myself
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