hell is full of lovers
breathing a lot of circulated air
it always feels like night because the lights are on all the time
too many people, too little communication
so i'm sitting in white sheets like clouds listening to my cds and watching the sleek black cars pull in through the window
heels on red carpet, clacking, echoing down the floor.
(i am the ugly lover you'll find us rolling on the dirty floor / i'm a bellydancer i'll shake forever and i'll never care)
i wish it was november, i wish i could just pop in at any point on my lifeline. then i'd probably go near to the very end, and see what's happening there
the elevator bell's always ringing as people pass by floors swiftly, silently, the air conditioning sighs out steadily
i'm tired, i'm holding fake conversations in my head again.
i'm tired, i don't need a lot of the things i have.