Late at night you can find me surrounded by all of my simple ink and pen
Drawings sinking, hiding, screaming, waiting to be opened again
Like wounds that fester, blister, wonder, hope and cry and make me reach my end
Just one more, just one more, just one more, is it done yet, is it done yet
Like the moon, I’m waning, waxing, twisting, in and out of sleep, out of sleep and bed
Like the bruises that remain on my legs and my fingertips for weeks on end
All these images attack my mind, get them out, out of my head
Then I want them back, please take me back, back to that place again
Art is a fickle lover
It makes me wish my happiness away
Art is a motherfucker
It smacks me harder so I beg it to stay
Art is a fickle lover
It’s not my choice to crave this kind of pain
If my skin was paper
You’d be more worried when I buy my x-acto blades
I’ve heard it said that the devil lives in the fiddle, that the devil lives in the free
It slams me up against the wall, hand around my throat, whispers in a sweet melody
“Sorry if this isn’t the narrative that you expect, expected outta me
It’s not my fault that you were made, that you were made to find me so pretty
“And you can leave, try to leave, go and leave, but you know you’ll always be back
Cause no one loves you like I love you, without me no one loves you at all that’s just a fact
I make the best parts of you, alone what in the world would you have?
You know that without me your personality would just slip through the cracks.”
Chorus
And it hits me all at once sometimes
And addiction that I try to fight
It’s not fair; I’m not the violent kind
But my skin begs to differ when you hold it to the light
Art is a fickle lover
It makes me wish my happiness away
Art is a motherfucker
It smacks me harder so I beg it to stay
Art is a fickle lover
Don’t ask me why I feel this way
Art is a motherfucker
It forgives my sins only after I’ve pleaded for pain
Art is a fickle lover
Art is a mothefucker
Art is my best abuser
Art throws my ugly on a page
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