CIGARETTES AND ORANGES

I'm shotgun and I'm a lost child pulling my sleeves down hiding my hands. You collect me, my remains, when it's all over you're trying to remember the feeling. Like you've never ever known, like you never ever did or will.

When you're in shotgun's seat, when you're holding your jacket close in your arms and pulling your shades over your eyes, hiding and lying about it. Trying to make it less real.
Like when you say to yourself rocking soft "this isn't happening"
or when I whisper "come-on fucker" when we pass each other without a word.
when you heard a woman crying out my name in the hallway and you look up from your newspaper because you hear my hoofs cracking down on the ground for the fourth time.

You see my pouty lips and my boyfriend sitting by me not knowing what to do with this girl 'cos she's just gone all of a sudden eyes darting, and you're watching carefully and turning for a second thinking "maybe..." but you know it's a mistake so you keep walking.

Pull down your shades over your bloodshot eyes 'cos you've just won the game, you've got no excuse to be as red and shaken as that one time.
Just try to remember the feeling when you know it's gone.

prev || frwd