Substance

I’m a quitter, I’m a liar, I’m a whore,
I’m walking away from you [leaving you]
In the mess you’ve made.
You’re going to be alone,
And four months from now
When you realize how stuck [how fucked]
You really are,
I won’t pick up my phone.
[I’m not coming back]
To discuss the name for your daughter
While your lips are at my neck,
Cursing me, caressing me, bewitching me
To give in to your wandering fingertips
[your mind, that gets bored after
A tired month of the same sights
The same curves, the same eyes]
I’m not leaving [sneaking away, quiet as a mouse]
At three am, wondering, wishing, torturing myself
Over your lies, your eyes, your music—
You’re a bad ride at a carnival,
And I’m sick and stumbling away.
You’re heroin, and I’m an addict
Turning away from the substance
[Recovering from your chaos, your charisma]