“I make such a good statistic, somebody should study me now; somebody's gotta be interested in how I feel, just cause I'm here, and I'm real.”
“I opened the fire doorto four lipsnone of which were minekissingtightened my belt around my hipswhere your hands were missingand stepped out into the coldcollar highunder the slate grey skythe air was smoking and the streets were dryand I wasn't joking when I saidGood Byemagazine quality men talking on the cornerFrench, no less much less of them then usso why do I feel like something's been rearranged?you know, taken out of context I must seem so strangekilled a cockroach so bigit left a puddle of pus on the wallwhen you and I are lying in bedyou don't seem so tallI'm singing now because my tear ducts are too tiredand my brain is disconnected but my heart is wiredI make such a good statisticsomeone should study me nowsomebody's got to be interested in how I feeljust 'cause I'm hereand I'm realoh, how I misssubstituting the conclusion to confrontation with a kissand oh, how I misswalking up to the edge and jumping inlike I could feel the future on your skinI opened the fire doorto four lipsnone of which were minekissingI opened the fire door”
“I do it for the joy it brings, cause I'm a joyful girl. 'Cause the world owes us nothing, we owe each other the world.”
“You broke me bodily.The heart ain't the half of it,And I'll never learn to laugh at itIn my good natured way.In fact, I'm laughing less in general,But I learned a lot at my own funeral.And I knew you'd be the death of me,So I guess that's the price I pay.”
“I don't take good pictures 'cause I have the kind of beauty that moves.”
“ i do it for the joy it bringsbecause i'm a joyful girlbecause the world owes me nothingand we owe each other the world”
“We get a little further from perfection, each year on the road,I guess that's what they call character,I guess that's just the way it goes,better to be dusty than polished,like some store window mannequin,why don't you touch me where i'm rusty,let me stain your hands”