i'm no expert on the subject but i heard the words before
scattered in my epicenter where bad memories are stored
she says no
i'm not falling down
i've got two feet in every corner and a hand on every wall
and if this one tries to hurt me i'm kicking him in the balls
i'm not falling down
she's no expert on the subject she doesn't know if she's in love
every time she starts to fall she gets buried in the stuff
i say listen to yourself
it sounds like pain
she says i know this
but from all my experience i'm pretty sure that's what love is
i say love
is caused by chemicals
and she says PMS is caused by chemicals
i wish they made a pad
that would soak up all the aftermath of that boy
so she could throw it all away
cause all the opportunities of her life
hide like fingerprints now from her sight
and she is dusting the floor
for any sign of life that can be found
looking up at the hands that would save her screaming
no i don't need you
i'm not falling down
so i compare her to a paint by numbers drawn over the top
of Michelangelo's ceiling or
Claus Sauldenbeg's soft stuff
she compares me to a critic
and I say that's just your anger coming out
and she says see, there you go again
but i like to be there for her
and listen to the pain pouring
out of her like music with the ugly notes sustained
and if i run out of responses it's
cause she heard them all before
so i practice making silences and
all of theses stupid metaphors
her words don't make it past me
and she needs that opportunity
i wish they would make a flag
out of all the self she gave away
she could launch it in the air one time
and tell him everything she has to say
cause all the opportunities of her life
hide like fingerprints now from her sight
and she is dusting the floor
for any sign of life that can be found
looking up at the hands that would save her screaming
no i don't need you
i'm not falling down