He walks her home

 He walks her home only to face the dark alone. 

Measures his drink and time spent on the phone. 

Chills each measure, pays for her though hes broke. 

She walks the line. Freaks out and texts 50 times. 

 Acts a clown, like it'll be good if she's the tenor from velvet underground. 

Paints her face white like putting on another mask will make it right. 

 As if. 

She's a mocktail made with 2 & half pints. 

Maybe some wine winin bout whites and trans rights. Never knowin how he fears the night. 

Weepin tales of rape at the microphone. Sitting on her front of house throne,

 listenin to the good ol boys callin her woke. 

 I'm sick of listenin to people speak with their eyes, with slick backs kickin comebacks. There are no answers so don't just do what you're told. 

 I've got curly blonde hair doesn't make me a sheep like my third person verses make me weep, 

for all my bla wa wa and bla bla beeeeepp.
Sensored everything but my cuss words, how many decades til I'm declassified. 

Eyes wide shut coppin lines like 'haters gonna hate' when we know in truth we're all repressed, oppressed, at the very least depressed but can't see our own defeat. 

Can't fuck it out, talk it out, or even run down this street. 

It's half passed three. It's not a gun so why're you happy to see me? 

I try to strip tease my act. I know I'm not that tough. Just a sensitive bitch in love with your guts. There's not a moment I awoke, this series ain't the first I wrote.

 It can't be taught in a poem, a note, or a life time of cut throat. 

There's no referee, coach, player; just a game; you and I were both condemned to by name. 

Why are you taking the fall, we're both guilty but you're down and out, while I crawl as if to prove I can't walk when I know damn well to hold my head tall. 

I've always been real, so why am I frontin transparent?

- Ya can't see me if you look right through me. - 

 all the doppelgangers in the world, reflections of oppression, gang rape, fights in the street. 

Guilt projectors spotlight as if their down- still on their knees when they forgot to stop, look up and take in the beauty before me. 

I'm short on quick comebacks, don't know what to say, but hay that's ok Bitch you know I'll still fucking talk allll day. 

there's not a rule book on you or the people you think this songs about. 

Are you prepared to be surprised? Best remember none of us know what the fuck we're talking about. I'm sick of listening to people speak with their eyes, with slick backsides, come backs and their inner thighs. 

No one has the answers and there's never a yet so don't just do what your told. 

That's what you always tell me but fuck we're still in a molding mold, a myth taking hold, believing us into reality every year it's sold. 

 New layers of hypocracy more painful irony, uneveiling seems to only reinforce the cold. 

You don't have to love me, but fuck I know you like me. 

Even with my batshit dung strung out in clown acts we both know I'm much more than this shitty song. More than a defensive step in distraction tech. More then ears to our trip in a this psychedelic ship wreck. 

Fuck everything. 

I just need you to know how I care about you and you alone