...Like Hangnails on Sweatersleeves
Greyhound
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Hi, I'm Jon Yes I'm the millionth person to start a poem introducing myself And I won't pretend I'm not a little bit sorry for that Hi, I'm Jon: I write poetry, sort of; I sing, sort of; I play drums mostly And I apologize if I tell you that I play guitar in an attempt to impress you Because I don't really play it So much as I shape my hand how I think it's supposed to go And hope that what comes out sounds at least decent enough for punk rock Hi, I'm Jon and that last line described every significant relationship I've had Which is to say I don't feel comfortable calling myself a guitarist Hi, I'm Jon, and if you would let me I would tell you about all the bands you should totally check out Because they're great, I mean, they only have like, one 5 song EP but I saw them at NYP and I promise you'll love them Hi, I'm Jon; I'm a sucker for a smile and a setting I am made of obscure pop culture references Which probably means that I sound like a complete idiot, but don't let that fool you I really am an idiot (That's a reference) I feel like an idiot for crushing this hard But I crush like a hydraulic press And I fall in love like losing my footing at the top of an impossibly tall staircase I am the slinky on the steps of that scene in Ace Ventura, and Cupid is Jim Carey Hi, I'm Jon, and I'm sorry that I'm the absolute worst at this And by "this", I mean functioning within a ten foot radius of someone as attractive as you I'm not really a human so much as a greyhound in a human costume And the jury is out on whether it's nerves, excitement Or the caffeine buzz that is the source of my shaking I'm sorry that I do that irritating thing that all guys do And by "that thing", I mean breathing Hi, I'm Jon, and I'm already a cup of coffee And an extended conversation away from falling in love with you And I feel way too old to be acting like this But then again, Mark Hoppus wrote the lyrics "We'll pretend that you think that I'm the man of your dreams come to life in a dive bar" While in his 40's and married with a child But this isn't a dive bar; it's the internet And I am not Mark Hoppus, But I wouldn't mind being alone with your smile Not to imply that I would pull any stunts if we were alone, let's be honest I am also not Hobo Johnson: no stunt-puller from birth And the only stunt being pulled Here is an army of cupids firing volley of heart-shaped arrows into my chest Before the month of February has even begun I wonder- If you got caught in the crossfire I wonder if you look both ways when you cross my mind Because it's a busy four-lane highway every single time I wonder what kind of things make you laugh What kind of movies make you cry What kind of songs make you dance I wonder if any of that means anything to you at all I wanna know so badly But every time I think I have the courage to shoot my shot, I retreat To the permanence of mystery; uncomfortable, but not unfamiliar I wonder if I'm just wasting my time, and if so, that's fine I can only imagine how many swarms of other guys have thrown themselves at you In an attempt to land in your passenger seat Which is to say, I may end up a bug on your windshield But- The chance to be that close to you seems pretty worth the risk
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"...Like Hangnails on Sweatersleeves Lyrics." Lyrics.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 13 May 2024. <https://www.lyrics.com/lyric-lf/5546070/Greyhound/...Like+Hangnails+on+Sweatersleeves>.
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