And I saw her again
for the first time in a year
the old eyes/lock/crowded room
while we were watching a band play
like in that fucking Sonic Youth video
we smiled to the sound of a theremin
and when they were done I told her
'Baby, you're the same as you ever was'
affecting the common tone I knew she liked
while you sat there and snickered
knowing what was on my mind

And she laughed and blushed and went to the bathroom
leaving me to my own thoughts
'I want this;
this is stupid,
I've done it all before!!!!'
and I asked you for advice
so you just said:
'We all need some relief sometime, Adrian
and I think you just found something
a little more comfortable
to slip into'
Well, you always have been horrible like that.

I left it there, I had no choice, I couldn't think straight at all
remembering the last time we were together,
which was the same as the time before:
at first it goes fantastic
then it goes not at all.
'Fuck it!' you cried
'You don't want any of that!
You just want somebody to hold you
then you home by dawn!'
Well, for you shit can be that simple
but I'm still too young for that kind of thing;
well, maybe too old now, I just can't do that all the same.

And right away I knew something was wrong
when she started sending me poetry
How someone can carry a metaphor
for dead flowers as lost love
I don't fucking know
But you just laughed and rubbed your hands and said
'You've got her where you want her now;
now's the chance to get her back
for all the pain she's done to you'
'You're a spiteful old fuck'
I gently replied
but you'd always been a bit like that

So I replied gently
with nondescript poems about urban angst
and existentialist isolation
you know, my standard bread-and-butter autopilot rant
and told her about my weekends
of decadence and sin
and abruptly she blurted
'I got the results of a biopsy,
can you come hold me for a while'

Well, this was just fucking perfect
it was all de ja vu to me
back to time in April last year
where I braved red paint to be by her side
for the death of a baby that was not mine
and all of a sudden you were quiet
where was your lewd advice now
but without you leering over my shoulder
I had no moral counterpoint
to base my decision on
and I'm still sitting here choosing
trying to decide which is right and which is wrong
but I fear it's all just shades of grey
and I hear you saying
'Hey, at least she won't be around very long'

You really are a bad fucking person, you know?

All virgins are liars, honey