Gasoline - The Airborne Toxic Event
All the time I wake, you're still on my mind. We were
on our own almost all the time. She'll step away for
just a second or two and I close my eyes and think of you.
We were only seventeen, we were holding back our screams
like we'd torn it from the pages of some lipstick magazine.
And you'd scratch and turn and say, "Let's burn ourselves
up until we scream."
Like gasoline.
All those tender days at your mother's house...and your
father would find my hand inside your blouse. They tell me
that you're married now. Well, my dear, I fear I can't
understand how.
When we were only seventeen, we were holding back our screams,
like we'd torn our lives from the pages of some girlie magazines,
and you'd scratch and turn and say, "Let's burn these sheets
down to the seams."
Like gasoline.
I was only twenty-one, i wasn't having any fun and the words
you said tore through my head like bullets from a gun. And
I should have just shown up and said, "Get in this car, let's
run."
Now these years have seen so many imitations turning green.
Each like the last, they go right past like credits on a screen,
with your memory blazing through me, burning everything.
Like gasoline.
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