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lyrics

she was a saint, she was a common tool
lying hopeless and waiting for use
beneath her crossed arms lay a golden rule
to be a saint, what’s a girl to do?

she was a saint, she was a precious jewel
lying weary and wasting her youth
beneath her sorrow lay a perfect soul
to be a saint, what’s a girl to do?

what’s another night in the stacks?
another hour, find an answer to that, i guess
leave her number scrawled into the index
poet collections: browning, shelley, plath

what's another night in the sack?
a half an hour to convince herself of that
“what’s in it for me? can i carry your wristlet?"
“i live right by here.” no, it hasn’t happened yet
"i live right by here." NO, IT HASN’T HAPPENED YET
another hour, ask again, gently undress
leave her number scrawled into the index
her mind turning: poetry, undress

she could never believe you if you won't trust her at all
she could never believe in anything like you at all
you would never believe her if you can't see her at all
you would never believe in anything but you at all
she would never believe you if you said you were not lost
she would never believe in you

credits

from Constan​ţ​a, released June 2, 2017

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