MissTwain
05-19-2009, 03:27 PM
I fell in love with a red-haired man.
He told me his freckles were pieces of stars burnt in his flesh.
And I wanted to believe him.
I told him my love was like a scar on my fingertip that burns when exposed.
And he wanted to believe me.
We stayed outside to watch the trees on fire
He thought it was a waste of good shade
I thought it was his head.
I crashed his car into the lake,
He sat there puffy eyed and laughed while we drowned in 3 feet of water.
And I wanted to believe him.
So instead I fell in love with a brown-haired man.
And he sang.
And in awe of his pale face and freckle-less broad shoulders, I
Wanted to believe him.
And he played the fool, and I laughed with him and cried with him
And wanted to believe in him.
I wanted to follow the grass stains his feet make on the stage floor.
I wanted to reach out and kiss his face with my fingers,
But he stayed onstage while I sat dismal in a corner.
And he played the piano until the keys pierced me like bullets.
And I wanted to believe them.
He told me his freckles were pieces of stars burnt in his flesh.
And I wanted to believe him.
I told him my love was like a scar on my fingertip that burns when exposed.
And he wanted to believe me.
We stayed outside to watch the trees on fire
He thought it was a waste of good shade
I thought it was his head.
I crashed his car into the lake,
He sat there puffy eyed and laughed while we drowned in 3 feet of water.
And I wanted to believe him.
So instead I fell in love with a brown-haired man.
And he sang.
And in awe of his pale face and freckle-less broad shoulders, I
Wanted to believe him.
And he played the fool, and I laughed with him and cried with him
And wanted to believe in him.
I wanted to follow the grass stains his feet make on the stage floor.
I wanted to reach out and kiss his face with my fingers,
But he stayed onstage while I sat dismal in a corner.
And he played the piano until the keys pierced me like bullets.
And I wanted to believe them.