Cigarettes on empty stomachs   Beaten by a reject lummox   Like a drum that’s crafted    by a concubine      This is what I’m turning into   You’re a glass I cannot see through   And I want someone to miss me    all the time      So, put it back    what you took was all I had   All my books can’t compare    to your hooks   All snaggin’ on       So I’m standing at a junction    looking for a way to function   and the signs are melting    like Italian ice      I just watch them as they flicker   Talking to a box of liquor   Licking lashes that surround    inviting eyes      So pull me back    to the place you erased   All your faces and your hooks    still stick in all the way   Still snaggin’ on my skin      All day I think of things to say in case   You make your way back to my place