The Knife.

"You're an actor out of work. You're a liar, and that's the truth. You're an extra lost in the scene."

Save me from what I want.

I suppose it is best if we stay here, under this blanket, beneath the light, across the way, above the world. I suppose it is best, then, if you shall see it night and not day, that I shall be on my way. We see old pictures of dresses on women who swung gaily into shutter speeds of only the gray and dusty kind. Well, this is too much. Sugar on top makes the bitterness dissolve.

I was sleeping when she dragged me under. I awoke with a fright in the dark of the ocean's night to find that I was a goner. Mhm.

So, when I was done and had all my fun,
I walked home and looked through the rain.
I looked not into the barrel of your gun,
Thinking lightly of light and of pain.
But here we are, it is a magical night,
Let us not risk it.

If it would help you sleep, I would usher in the marching band and ask them politely to play you a lullaby. But you've kissed the drummer, you've kissed the boy with the flute, and by God, you've felt up the man with the tuba. I heard he's asthmatic. What?

I'm sorry, next time I'll keep a note on my hand, reminding me of you and how you are.