Bulimic Beats

I thought we'd escape I packed a fishing line and counted on it I thought we'd escape I packed a fishing line and counted on it But dreaming is for moonrise And moonlight also ails those tired eyes I treat him like a lady I treat him as I would he unto me Give rose rose-seller a run for her money With silicone and poetry But it's the end of me I thought it could change I'd wake up one morning and find nothing to rearrange I couldn't get there behind walls of sunday papers I thought it could change I'd wake up one morning and find nothing to rearrange But dreaming is for moonrise And moonlight ails these tired eyes I treat him like a lady I treat him as I would he unto me Give rose rose-seller a run for her money With silicone and poetry And it's the end of me Here I am Here I am And here I stand Here in my kitchen where I familiar with every brand Here I am A front line with labels where I witness custard's last stand Here I am