My formulated drug an acquired taste

awaits to sate this unrequited love

It tastes so gray, yet necessary to sustain frustration

Take just enough to get you fucked up

Not so much that it drives you away



A constant escape

The magnificent restraint that it takes to stay away

I've no control at all

I constantly dream

The memories invade the things I keep with me

I'm getting high on the roof of the world



You're no good for me

You're no good for me



(You're no good for me) You are the bent and blackened spoon.

You are the butane. You are the bedroom.

(You're no good for me) You are the improbable excuse

for the horrible things that I do.



You're no good for me, but I guess not bad enough.

And on quiet nights I come to find you crawling through my kick drum

Hell bent on deliverance of all the privileges

of being with you, Heaven sent I crane my neck

To watch you desperately march down my chest, enjoying every step.

Emphasized by distances we never intended.

You come crawling back through my regrets to remind me what you said...

"We're no good at this."