I can't feel love after her
The way she made hell
in her heels
Her shrill voice was
Always demanding
Always pretending
Always hurting my feelings
Spinning me like a fan on the ceiling
Killing my heart
Tearing apart
My life
Said she was my wife
but the sunrise came
our happiness became
yelling and screaming
Hearts turned to clubs
Diamonds turned to spades
In love, I'm a knave
The Red Queen's off with my head
My curious wonderland is dead
I'm fed up trying to get ahead
I'm Vicky with a black hole
where my cardiac should be
Fairly Odd how my parents raised me
They both said that…
()
My art is my girl
My art is my heart
My art is my lover
My art is my love

My wife wants a divorce
Of course it's like vice grips
As my vices grip me
I thought that all I needed
In this life of sin was me and my girlfriend
Sent her my ear so when I Gogh
She has a memory of my fight for her
That I'd never leave her impression less
But she kept repeating I need to get real
Photography fills rolls I never could
So she severed these ties
Like cutting wrists I
Seethe with precision like Rembrandt
Paint rouge on edges of my portrait
But all she does is pop off like she's twenty two
Caliber of Peggy Sue
Or a forty eight shot straight at my waist
Violent images through a camera, cinematography
What wasteful use of sin, bibliography
Of humanity
my art sourced…

My art is my girl
My art is my heart
My art is my lover
My art is my love

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