Marika Hackman

I'd Rather Be With Them

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Stale tongues, the words have gone
And all we’ve left is smoky spit and heavy lungs
And I don’t want to talk it through
But my head hurts and I hate you

So make me throw up
I know that you will
And wake up my mother
And tell her I’m ill

It’s all coming out now
Black, brown
Wine and bile

Salty eyes, and frothy lips
Your teeth are bared and champing at the fucking bit
Leaning on the window
When you point down and you let go

You say: “look at the people
Crawling like insects
All over the pavements”

I’d rather be with them
‘Cause I just hate this room
It smells like you

Leave it on, I like this song
When it ends, I really must be getting on
And the needle clicks after an hour
And you look back and the door slams

I’m so fucking heartless
I can’t even cry
I’ve opened my body
It’s hollow inside

So ring up my parents
And tell them I’m dead
And say how you left me
And fucked with my head

And I just hate your hair
And the clothes you wear
And I just love your hair
And the clothes you wear