you don't want violence
but you don't want self control
you just wana tell them
there's no point in dying old
and now ya pick up
all the pieces that ya broke up
and now you're fucked up
but that's okay cuz we can just get drunk
and in the morning
we'll have a different story
and we'll get horny
and we'll write a thousand love songs
and im sorry
yea im so sorry
that i turn meaning
into sexual grief
and im needy
yea im so needy
i need ya to need me
cause i cant turn myself on
well you break another finger
and then smoke your cigarette
would you tell me im no good
would you tell go to rest
would you pick up all the leaves
off our front yard in the fall
would you let the grass grow over or
keep digging into souls
can ya tell me im a number
can you say they're all the same
you're not special stupid slut
and then strap me down in chains
can ya read another number
can ya say it's not your name
can ya strip away the paint
can ya take the pain away
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