Pretty Things


pretty things
I can’t be bothered with these pretty things
they scoop me up when I’m unhappy
they take and take until there’s nothing

but I don’t learn
I make the same mistakes and old wrong turns
it’s like a bee sting or a slapping
it shakes you up ‘till you are nothing
it shakes you up ‘till you’re a pretty thing

pretty thing
I’m not affected by your pretty face
this is the last time I come running
the ghosts and hellish lows are coming

watch and learn
your empty head is like a trigger
I fill it up when no one’s looking
the string inside my chest keeps pulling
I fill you up ‘cause you’re a pretty thing