I promise to be a little bit more understanding
less demanding, less commanding
but I don’t believe in wishes
When I know the reality is
The better he looks and the more he knows
the less sincere interest he seems to show
Unless he thinks he can get something from you
A treasure no one else has been able to subdue
And when you offer it prepare for the switcheroo
The truth is he can do a whole lot better than you
So I promise to be a little more dainty, a little more sweet
but my mind is just molesting me
I’ve seen it over and over so high and solo
The worse he looks and the less that he owns
the more genuine the desperate moans
And you take him in to try to fix his wounds
And suddenly his confidence has bloomed
If you fell for empathy than why won’t she
Accept this relationship dichotomy…
I promise to be nice and quiet ( I’m lying)
stay on my physical diet (I’m dying)
until I get so sick of being lied to and wonder who
The fuck am I making these damned promises to?
