Flattered that you think I warrant ugliness. Guttersdrain west, mud made a mess of us. It's time to leavethis place. I'd saw through your wrist to find abetter trap that fits. I'd saw through your traps tofind a better you, a part of you that lasts. I sawthrough your trap and into my own wrists. Saw we werethrough, red ribbons spill to blue: a sight to soreyour eyes. I got this dress. I'm hiking it aroundthis waste of laughter. Slow dance alone with no oneto the sound of four hands clapping. Congratulationsto you both, I hope somewhere you're happy. Ifthere's a moral to this story then I wish you'd showme. Hair in the blood, fly in the disappointment.Rubber, I'm glue. I'll write the book on you. It'ssticking to my face. You need a little less than whatyou take for granted. This is the sip that's drinkingback from you, blacking out your eyes. You need alittle more suppression of your appetites. This isyour honeymoon, in separate rooms, it's neither sweetnor bright. I made a word to give this state a name,this game a guess. I call it "sluttering". It meansas little as your little test. You are your worstrevenge. Your very means, they have no ends. This isa story you won't tell the kids we'll never have. Ifyou hear this song a hundred times it still won't beenough.