sábado, 22 de junho de 2013

Teenage Rebel

Scars on her wrists
Vodka on her hands
Smile on her lips
It makes no sense

Deep talks
Light sleep
She loves walking
While drunk, when can't she think

She loves sex
But then she dies
'Cause after that
She feels a lie
About her past
That's why she cries

She turns them on
Leads them on
Then she says "no"
Thinks "where did I go?"

She drinks her alcohol
Smokes some cigarettes
With no regrets
Of recent past
That didn't last
More than a night
Hope that's alright

She's a teenage rebel
With scars on her wrists
Her mind's a twist
She's lot of trouble

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