La la, na na na na…
Hush, don’t speak
When you spit your venom
Keep it shut, I hate it
When you hiss and preach
About your new messiah
'cause your theories catch fire
I can’t find your silver lining
I don’t mean to judge
But when you read your speech, it’s tiring
Enough is enough
I’m covering my ears like a kid
When your words mean nothing, I go la la la
I’m turnin’ up the volume when you speak
'cause if my heart can't stop it
I find a way to block it, I go
I find a way to block it, I go
If our love is running out of time
I won’t count the hours, rather be a coward
When our worlds collide
I’m gonna drown you out before I lose my mind
La La La (feat. Sam Smith) - Naughty Boy
You make out with a boy because he’s cute, but he has no substance, no words to offer you. His mouth tastes like stale beer and false promises. When he touches your chin, you offer your mouth up like a flower to to be plucked, all covered in red lipstick to attract his eye. When he reaches his hand down your shirt, he stops, hand on boob, and squeezes, like you’re a fruit he’s trying to juice. He doesn’t touch anything but skin, does not feel what’s within. In the morning, he texts you only to say, “I think I left the rest of my beer at your place, but it’s cool, you can drink it. Last night was fun.”
You kiss a girl because she’s new. Because she’s different and you’re twenty two, trying something else out because it’s all failed before. After spending six weekends together, you call her, only to be answered by a harsh beep informing you that her number has been disconnected. You learn that success doesn’t come through experimenting with your sexuality, and you’re left with a mouth full of ruin and more evidence that you are out of tune.
You fall for a boy who is so nice, you don’t think he can do any harm. When he mentions marriage and murder in the same sentence, you say, “Okay, okay, okay.” When you make a joke he does not laugh, but tilts his head and asks you how many drinks you’ve had in such a loving tone that you sober up immediately. He leaves bullet in your blood and disappears, saying, “Who wants a girl that’s filled with holes?”
You find out that a med student does. He spots you reading in a bar and compliments you on the dust spilling from your mouth. When you see his black doctor’s bag posed loyally at his side, you ask him if he’s got the tools to fix a mangled nervous system. He smiles at you, all teeth, and tells you to come with him. In the back of his car, he covers you in teethmarks and says, “There, now don’t you feel whole again.” But all the incisions do is let more cold air into your bones.
You wonder how many times you will collapse into ruins before you give up on rebuilding. You wonder if maybe you’d have more luck living amongst your rubble instead of looking for someone to repair it. The next time someone promises to flood you with light to erase your dark, you insist them you’re fine the way you are. They tell you there’s hope, that they had holes in their chest too, that they know how to patch them up. When they offer you a bottle in exchange for your mouth, you tell them you’re not looking for a way out. No, thank you, you tell them. Even though you are filled with ruins and rubble, you are as much your light as you are your dark."
What men don’t understand is that women are FIERCELY PROTECTIVE of underage girls because we remember when we were young and some adult man made us uncomfortable or manipulated us or was inappropriate with us and we were powerless.
if anyone ever tells you that people who work in an office or government are boring please remember that the australian tax office is no longer allowed to have pub crawls because somebody stole a gumball machine.
it was bolted to the ground.
Anyone who thinks Shakespeare is boring apparently missed the greatest stage direction ever written:
I want that to be the final line of my biography.
let’s not forget about this gem from macbeth
and, of course, from henry v
ah, the leeks.
Guys are we forgetting Titus Andronicus or
did shakespeare just make a ”your mom” joke