She was interesting back then; pampered and irregular
Easy to always be beautiful when it’s the only thing said of ya
She was jagged, also, complex and original
He was of the time; complicated and criminal
The input could be minimal – that was totally allowed
Just a baggy jean, pack of straights and pint and she was wowed
Some blonde diamond spinning; twinkling amongst the crowd
Waiting for him to drink a taste for jewels so that she could be found
But there’s something lacking in a sparkle when it is drowned
Really it was never bling that he was craving – just a sloppy replica in between the raving
Can’t put deposits down on maybe, and every time he crawled back to the pawn shop the swag verged on breaking
Busted buckles – chips in rock – the whole collection gone amuck
But as long as he had money for the pub and Amber Leaf to suck
He didn’t pay mind to the battered seesaw; didn’t see she’d take the hardest lump
Because when those strobe lights flashed across her skin, she was pretty enough
Hoop skirts, poodle bangs, kitten heels to twist – beer, vodka, cider, wine: crystal in to mix
She knows just how silly it looks and just how silly it is
He arrives in through the window, leaves with scabs across his fist in a harsh and tangy mist
The scars charge the only clarity because in reality he was off his tits
The shame, the blame, makes him retreat, but she’s ready to forgive
Matted in his net with a retro pump as she sips and does the twist
Thinks of the day they met, like a war held in between
Hidden under sober shelters because she still isn’t even yet eighteen
Modernity came rushing: bought trackies, hoops and kicks
Pills to sizzle on her tongue and rolled dog ends to flick
Her circle started ballooning; although his pretty face stayed present she was a hundred miles from it
He dug his dirty mitts around the net, searching for the little girl he met, yet only pulling dust
He was pushed under, fresher pain, as his name faced air and crust
He wanted to be thought of; wanted a brain to rent
Not just stare at two grey ticks waiting for a text to send
She’d sugared the length of yesterday, left a heap on the barber shop floor; severed those knotty blonde locks that he adored
The present felt futuristic; sniffed and smoked out the past
She waved her backcomb, her Lindybop, her will-he-or-will-he-not; as it hung limp half mast
Her passport finally legit, she’s served at any bar
Turtlenecks and body warmers, no makeup and hair dark
Half the size she was back then, and half the little girl too
Because she’s seen some shit, swallow some shit, until her face turned fucking blue
Still he comes to visit – creeps through the city’s air with that blood stained jumper and brunette, shaggy hair
Just ensuring she don’t forget him (don’t lose him in her bloom)
Making safe her kind thoughts of him don’t sour or ungroom.
by Lyric Deep.
Lyric Deep™ 