Saturday, January 4, 2014

He knows better,
She knows better,
But he'll let her
Think she's in control,
So he can sell his charm
And around goes his arm
Around her.
She likes it there,
However momentary,
Like conquering a cloud.
Just a dumb little waitress
Who's not really that dumb,
But likes to have fun.
So maybe when she opens her eyes
She says oh no what now.
She rolls over to a sleeping mistake
And her reality is shaken awake.
So maybe she knows its not right
But it's good for the experience,
Good for the writer's plight,
Cause she likes to do that too
And stay awake too long at night.
She likes to feel anything but nothing.
When she thinks she doesn't want him anymore,
He stirs it up inside
And she leaves her clothes on the floor.
But
Feelings are feelings,
Precious no matter how they are formed,
Rather to feel them than to be bored.
Sometimes they are easier to define
When you are not speaking of yourself,
So it's hard for me providing service
To a man selling something else,
Something not as it may seem,
When I just want the man,
But dumb waitresses can dream.


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