Chris Valenti

Your eyes radiate your honesty. Your hand trembles as you reach for me. You're an absolute beauty.
You crawl across the messed up bed. Lay your down on my chest. Close your eyes like you're dreaming.
When you finally speak, you say your in love and it's all you've been thinking of.
I say, "Is that true? Cause I'm in love too...
With my ex-girlfriend.

Who are you in love with? What's the matter?"

You hit me hard with your left clog. My eye's bleeding as you start to sob. Then you run out screaming.
I always find these psycho girls. They seem fine at first, but then they turn suddenly violent.
They're all the same just like whatever her name just was.
Sometimes I think maybe I'm to blame, but no, it's their fault because
They're not my ex-girlfriend.

Just look like her. Just sound like her. Just smell like her. Just be her. Just be her.
Just act like her. Just laugh like her. Kick ass like her. Just be her Just be her.
There's a knock of the door. Has my ex-girlfriend come back?
No, it's that pyscho what's-her-name here for another attack.
She just wants to talk.

"I love you" That's nice, but you're not her.
"I need you." That's nice, but you're not her.
"I want you." That's nice, but you're not her.
You're not her. You're not her. You're not her. You're not her.

"I'll make you some food." That's nice, but you're not her.
"Let's get in the mood." For what? You're not her.
"I'm pregnant with two." That's sucks, but you're not her.
You're not her. You're not her. You're not her. You're not her.