Proof کے بول

To be loved like a child’s toy or cigarette Is to die a funny feeling in a chest The girls bleed and drape over the recliner You breathe slow in the dark Letting pass every spark Counting on me to catch eyes like fire But you don’t know me bitch You don’t know me bitch The front door nods like an old plug Ignitions lull with a hum And just when you thought you could trust me to leave You don’t know me bitch You don’t know me bitch I wished for you to read my mind I wanted you to come and find Me waiting in the foyer for you And when you weren’t there I made out of thin air What would bear resemblance to proof That you don’t know me, bitch You don’t know me, bitch