Propped up in the corner
of virtue and sin,
only boots and a tie
adorn her pale skin
and as I walk past her
I cannot help but stare
and realize it's a mirror;
it's my body we share.
She is just an idea,
a personality bug
with the mind of a stripper,
the confidence of a thug
She puffs her cigarette smoke,
laughs in my face,
sticks it straight down my throat.
Says 'hey, have a taste.
I'm that girl you could be,
that life you'd hate to live,
but there's fun in this hell hole
of mine, if you give. So
Give in, give in.'
That's all that she says.
And though I am tempted,
I spend most of my days
trying to drown her out,
but I'm only waist deep.
It's so easy to swim when
there is nothing there to keep
her grounded, so I fear
if she ever got me high
I'd give the finger to the world
and say "Bye bitches, goodbye."
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