Title from the Mountain Goats (MySpace)
(...Okay, it's a cover, but the tMG version is the one I know.)
It was ironic in a way that reminded me of Alanis Morisette,
which, I guess, isn't really ironic so much as shitty timing,
but whatever it was, it tightened something in my throat,
grasping at my heart with constricting muscles and an instinct to swallow,
like a big jungle snake,
as my heart tried to crawl out and declare,
"I love you!"
to the photo of you and your boyfriend
mushing your lips together so strongly that
your noses and foreheads deformed from the pressure against each other,
turning you into a single, monstrous creature that, in the next picture,
split and screamed with joy and laughter and drool pooling at the corners of your lips.
It was when I developed those two photos that I knew I loved you.
It was when you picked them up and all I could say was,
"Comes to $5.36," before my tongue turned into a halter hitch
that I realized I was born with too few guts for you to know.
(...Okay, it's a cover, but the tMG version is the one I know.)
It was ironic in a way that reminded me of Alanis Morisette,
which, I guess, isn't really ironic so much as shitty timing,
but whatever it was, it tightened something in my throat,
grasping at my heart with constricting muscles and an instinct to swallow,
like a big jungle snake,
as my heart tried to crawl out and declare,
"I love you!"
to the photo of you and your boyfriend
mushing your lips together so strongly that
your noses and foreheads deformed from the pressure against each other,
turning you into a single, monstrous creature that, in the next picture,
split and screamed with joy and laughter and drool pooling at the corners of your lips.
It was when I developed those two photos that I knew I loved you.
It was when you picked them up and all I could say was,
"Comes to $5.36," before my tongue turned into a halter hitch
that I realized I was born with too few guts for you to know.
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