Shelma
It's Hard To Be Honest
lately i haven't been sleeping all that well
try as i might
thinking of all the thoughts that never will
(c'mon michele fight the good fight)
you treat me like an angel, buried in the snow
it will melt eventually, it's just ice as you may or may not know
plastic bags all fly then lie themselves in the street
as i drive
a fog gripped over all the grass and fell asleep
that's how i know it's night
a helicopter's overhead and you've been drinking again
i was so angry you had figured me out
but don't you worry, i'll get over it
your dark hair seperates into ten silly lines
one's for me
and when we say hello or prolong goodbye
you treat me like a person that i know i'm not
you can say what you will about me now
but someday you'll say, she's not what i thought.
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