I've been mourning over your move for the winter in random hotel rooms. Sour taste left on my lips like a tangerine. I've been listening to rock n roll and smoking cigarettes. I've been wearing more black around my eyes then ever before, alone with red nails to dig into my own skin.
But I'm never alone for long. Sugar, I just want your time. I show up at the Knitting Factory on a Friday night and say, "sing me a song." Slight infatuation. I have to have it. I paint red lips and play dress up. Making out with you while you're singing your song. You're playing your guitar, and it's turning me on. I lose my hotel keys and drink whiskey in the West Village. If you want clean fun, go fly a kite. If you want a paper doll that you can tame, look the other way.