The Last Time


Be Still My Wandering Heart

You’re a fool if you thought I would wait.

It’s the last time I’ll let you be late.

I’ve licked the gin from my lips,

Brushed my skirt down my hips,

And now you will see how I hate.

That finger of yours must be sore,

But it won’t swipe right anymore.

It’s just after two,

And I’m coming for you,

Cock your ear for my knock at the door.

Knock-knock, and now I am in.

Your cat glares up from its tin.

Don’t stare so that way,

You know what they say,

Revenge is never a sin.

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