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Head North
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Poor Posture
'Its all done take off your mask.'
She wrote on the paper left on the table
like she new me well enough to say that
I can't swallow my pride.
I'm a coward by instinct,
as a matter of fact,
I'm just a child with a temper.
The fire of December.
Burning everything with every chance I get.
I hope you forget the name of every boy you sleep with
and you run out of excuses for it.
So tell yourself your fine,
and its the worlds fault you're so upset.
Knot that thread you call a spine.
But you're so selfish and content with
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not mending all your flaws,
so excuse it and abuse it,
say who your born is who you are.
Say its your destiny
to grow old
and alone
and push away
everyone and everything.
I hope you forget the name of every boy you sleep with
and you run out of excuses for it.
So tell yourself your fine,
and its the worlds fault you're so upset.
Knot that thread you call a spine.
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