Miss Messenger

Your entire life is a fetish.
You got the looks but you ain't got the mechanics
And it's my fault; and I gotta get it right (So get it right)

Tracing down the back roads of this city
I'm tired, giving in to what has been
A weekend of victimless crime.
This harmless messenger whispers in my ear that it's time.

So I commit, go up the stairs-- the second door on the right.
Until you walked in,
I hadn't seen a girl that made me feel like

Spilling my guts
Would you like to know more?
I'm all out of breath, it's hard to speak,
You're naked on the floor.

Falling down this staircase so effortlessly
I've gotta make an exit, like my entrance,
So convincing that I'm fine.

These flashy girls, they got so much time on their hands
It's hard to keep up.
The East Village would dry up
If the trust funds could expire.

Never once did I believe that you weren't worth it.
But I never thought of consequences.
You start your fires. Why won't you let me see
Your red and deepest, darkest desires?
I'll keep them secret.