I’ve broken all my mirrors cause I look just like the bogieman
My vision's swallowed by this New York City harmattan
I see a woman’s grin explode under a warm caress
I think about it later when I’m
I’m coming of age I guess
(I hope you understand)
In the distance I can see you there
Cigarette stuck in your face
I near you as you stub it on a bright bodega canopy
I don’t know what your deal is, but can I have some?
I can’t recall how long it’s been since I’ve talked to anyone
In a minute I am leaving all the things I believed in
Everything I’ll ever need, lip-to-drink in front of me
A flower in your pasture, my stem extending faster
I bite my lip to fight to last but I’m
I’m still coming of age, I guess
I’d like you to think that I know what I’m doing
But darling I ain’t so proud
Truth is you topple my fortress to ruin
If I do it wrong, would you help me out?
You say, ‘baby boy, you better shut your mouth’
Now I stampede through the city fueled with alcohol euphoria
Then I stumble through the midnight to your mattress in Astoria
I see the battle won: the trumpets shout it from your face
How deceiving is the fun of sleeping in a different place
Another sun, another head, the happy one of August, dead
Forgetting all I adored, I fade from you, afraid and bored
Now I’m pushin’ rope, another bed
I close my eyes and raise my head
When your face usurps the one I’m with and I’m
Baby I’m still coming of age, I guess
I meant to say sorry when later I saw you, but some other words fell out
Instead I asked whether you think of me ever
You just stood there with a why’d-you-say-that frown
I guess I never learned to shut my mouth
I hope you understand
credits
from The Ravages of Puberty (part one),
released August 4, 2020
Songs - Connie Danger
Production - Connie Danger & Graham Stone
Drums - Dave Tedeschi
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