Moving In.

(am) (f) (em)
You, you, you laid me down,
You laid me down,
Please build me up,
Then break me down.

You put cement,
Under my skin,
You weigh me down,
I'll let you win.

With a chimney throat,
I breathe you out,
I'm in your lungs,
But always get blown out.

Keep windowed eyes,
Two glassy stares,
You burn me out,
You won't be there.

A picket fence
To shield my mouth
Padlocked with gold
So it won't get out

An extra key
Under doorstep mats
It waits for you,
It takes you back

A mail post
An open mouth
Just another way
You could shut it out.

You laid me down,
You laid me down,
Please build me up,
Then break me down.

tyra banks

Let me drip from your skin,
First an itch, now the pins
To your needles, let me in,
You let it happen.

You were the words I once spoke,
Like you said, it wasn't provoked,
So I just stay between bad jokes,
And wait to be retold.

It's your wrist that brings you through,
That minute hand, hats off to you,
With its guess, it was then you knew,
That I was open.

But now its hard to bite my tongue,
One battle's lost, another is won,
And I could never say I'm done,
You know I wouldn't.

So leave you arm around my neck
An ivory wreath, sun-spotted specks
A pretty dress, for a nervous wreck
Please let me keep it