The Dream

I think I'm made to be temporary

like a grade school summer novelty

There's a yellow tint to the the floor

from the sun on the carpet

by my mothers door

Mmm

Mmm

I watch him slide his hand along the windowsill

He's soft and full of love that I will never feel

And my voice is sickly sweet when I want to be mean

And I'm trying not to give up 'cause i'm only seventeen

So watch the clock for me

Seventeen

The dream

Freckled bruises on my knees

come with pain that isn't forgiving

I think about it nightly

When the curtains should be closed

and I'm freezing

And my voice is sickly sweet when I want to be mean

And I'm trying not to give up 'cause i'm only seventeen

So watch the clock for me

Seventeen

The dream