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Dear girl, you will be a boy for him tonight. |
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Dear girl, he only wants to see the boy in you tonight. |
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Do you still mooch there, still hung up on wedge hair? |
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Do you still mope there, falling asleep with wet hair? |
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All that you really want, is to know what it is you really want. |
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Overweight wallflower goth, brought up on the wrong side of Lowestoft. |
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With your crime of Being Yourself. And your punishment of Staying Yourself. |
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Who exactly is your type? Where exactly is your type? |
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Confused and proud, but you can't say it loud. |
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You're confused and proud, but you'll brazen it out. |
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Of the forty-eight genders why must you concern yourself with merely two? |
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Plumping for polarity in your life, as if that somehow means more clarity in life. |
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And if we held a protest demonstration, we'd all march off in different directions. |
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Confused and proud, but it's scarcely allowed. |
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You're confused and proud, and thrown out of the crowd. |
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I didn't CHASE you, I more fell towards you. |
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No, I did not CHOOSE you, I just fell towards you. |
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And while sobriety slumbers, you and I may swap numbers. |
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But those dutiful digits won't be dialled. Those dutiful digits won't be dialled. |
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They're digits inevitably filed. They're digits to remain un-dialled. |
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More digits that will never be dialled. More digits just scribbled and filed. |
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More digits that will NEVER be dialled. More digits just written and filed. |
