Ill wear my patent leather shoes
and my golden fleeces.
A feather in my hair for you,
and then Ill fall to pieces
at your celebration.
celebration te you.
Were quiet as two mannequins,
feasting on silences.
We wait for Christmas to begin,
to see the cracking faces.
I tip my glass and toast to you;
the blood spills on the carpet
at your celebration.
celebration te you.
And in the dream you held a gun.
You killed off all who hurt you,
and left me there the only one
who would not dare desert you.
Im safe here growing in the shade,
away from all your brightness.
I lost my innocence today,
when I learned how to write this.
Tonight my nightgown is in knots.
I toss and turn in your honor.
Ill never know just what Ive got
as long as youre my father.
And Ill keep searching here for you,
Ill clean out every corner.
Its not my fault
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