Tired of bad kisses, and weird smells.
Music that lingers and things clinging.
Tired of thinking the things that are lost.
Tired of the heat that sticks to my skin.
Longing for the cold just to cudle warm.
Movies watch over and over, music that is familiar, and music that doesn’t belong.

Tired of days past with voices that hurts my ears,
Wishing without bithday candles, instead I wish upon things that matters.
I pretend to be the queen of my world, when I know I am a prisoner every day.

Tired of bad kissers and make believe fairytales, tired of false charms and made up smiles.
Tired of the sun when all I want is the light of a candle.

You don’t know me, but you think you know my skin, my skin tells stories wile my fingertips trace the lines on a tree.
Tired of hands thinking they know the way to feel good places.
But all they do is make me feel sick.

Tired of bad kisses and weird smells.
And day to day kiss and tell.
Lies and do what I say voices.

Everyday I love the beginning of a new page.
The ink is permanent and so I tattoo, my own little story only I can tell.