She's a special girl you know, the kind I'd hope to see, hanging on a wall, watching me cross the street
|
I wonder how long it will be before I'm sick of her, and I no longer care where she goes or has been, because she's the new thing
|
Feel my stomach sink. Whatever she brings, I cast myself in
|
She is the new thing
|
It started so slight then I flared into life, attention again onto another new thing
|
Once she had me on my knees, enamoured with disease
|
Now, she fails to impress
|
A different sickness
|
A different kind of sickness, lacking any interest
|
And I, sunk in apathy, totally absorbed in me
|
Sitting vacant on my own, my senses lying prone
|
She was the new thing
|
Feel my stomach sink and I curse my slow limbs
|
Staring at her, alterior girl, I cast myself into whatever she brings...
|
Another new
|
With sickness, it ends how it begins: First mine then hers, and then the cycle blurs as my actions reoccur through no fault of my own, through no fault of my own
|
|
-----------------
|
She Is The New Thing
|
The Horrors |