swear she looks fiona apple, circa ’96
with pale ocean eyes, pink powder lips
and she could bring me to my knees
like in worship, like a goddess
but she’s not one
she’s a rush of blood to the head, and a guilty conscience
i shouldn’t think of — the way i do
like, “all the things that i would do to you”
shit, i should be ashamed---what would my mother think?
or all my sisters and my aunties, if they knew what blondie had me craving
this is not a love song
how could this ever be a love song? there is no love
there’s only animal impulse
so when i see her, when she’s near me
i’m a champion, a motherfucking paladin
the way win the fight to not pursue it
i’ve got my reasons
she’s got me taming a hunger i’ve never known
the way it bubbles just beneath when i attempt to keep composed
you could almost see the beauty in how pure it is
but there ain’t nothing pure about what i would do with it
i’m talking running my hands up that blouse
and bite marks is all on your neck
and bending your pretty ass over that table
and ripping them panties off, the panties wet
i probably belong in that —
i could make my home in that —
-
you’ve been fucking with my mind
i’m not here to play your game
but i could play your god
and flood this whole shit holy rain
all from in between those hips on your slender frame
great flood