“I wish I could write you a song
A song that says exactly what I mean
But I don’t even know
What that is.
I guess when I look at something
I see what I see, then I think what I think
And my mind’s made up
So shut up.
I see you – your over-analyzing look
Like you’ve got me all figured out
You think, “Yeah, I know your type, quite well.”
And you tell
Me, oh, I don’t know
‘Cause I’m not listening anymore.
Oh, yeah, I know your type quite well
You’ll cast your spell
And then vanish
Vamoose, is that what they say?
And I’m sick tomorrow
And the next, and the next
And so on, and so forth.
And I’m so sick of these fucking dicks
Shaking their things and
Flapping their wings
Like some Daffy Duck in mating season.
There’s no reason for me to
Fall for your flirty tricks
So, if you’ve got something to say
Then just say it.
And I’ll follow my lead and
Say what I mean
I mean, I mean I love you
I want you close
Touch me, deep
Not like cheap lipstick and cigarettes.
Hold me tight and love me hard
Easy like a melody, sweet like a harmony
And then sing me a song
Play me a poem
And say exactly what you mean
And maybe I’ll figure it out
Exactly what I mean.” – Megan Marie Seaman