I opened the fire door

to four lips

none of which were mine

kissing

tightened my belt around my hips

where your hands were missing

and stepped out into the cold

collar high

under the slate grey sky

the air was smoking and the streets were dry

and I wasn't joking when I said

Good Bye

magazine quality men talking on the corner

French, no less much less of them then us

so why do I feel like something's been rearranged?

you know, taken out of context I must seem so strange

killed a cockroach so big

it left a puddle of pus on the wall

when you and I are lying in bed

you don't seem so tall

I'm singing now because my tear ducts are too tired

and my brain is disconnected but my heart is wired

I make such a good statistic

someone should study me now

somebody's got to be interested in how I feel

just 'cause I'm here

and I'm real

oh, how I miss

substituting the conclusion to confrontation with a kiss

and oh, how I miss

walking up to the edge and jumping in

like I could feel the future on your skin

I opened the fire door

to four lips

none of which were mine

kissing



I opened the fire door x 9