To whom it may concern,
I can hear you behind that paper thin wall,
You say someone with such blue eyes can't be bad,
I'll cross my legs so ladylike,
But GOD how I'm dying to escape it all,
I'm such a bitch down deep inside,
I'm about ready to slit your throats now.
To whom it may concern,
All of you men, no boys,
With your roses and poems and silly love notions,
I don't respect your quest for sex,
By showering me in praises,
Kissing my legs,
Calling me an angel,
Oh, how I make you breathless,
I adore watching the boys faces when I move my leg just so,
Flaunting what I have right under thir nose...
But aha - don't touch.
To whom it may concern,
I might have a face you think is crafted of porcelin,
And you might say I'm the next big thing,
But just take the fucking picture,
Let me give you the look you crave,
For your own selfish desires,
Don't try and bond with me,
I don't need you anymore than I need the woman begging by the door.
To whom it may concern,
I'll look down on you fi I damn well please,
I will live in my own world which I create,
Stiletto heels and faded red lips,
This is the life I choose,
And I don't remember sending you an invition,
So stay the fuck away.
To whom it may concern,
That's right I'm not answering my cell at 3 am,
To talk to one more gay man rambling about the cut of hair,
How it'll transform me,
No no no,
Just say it,
transform me.
To whom it may concern,
The face of a baby with eyes so blue,
I dunno what to say to you,
I was born with a soul black as sin,
And a face that won't let anyone in,
So stare into my eyes if you wish,
You all can even have the taste of my kiss,
But my nails will forveer be digging into my legs,
Through the fishnets of a dreamworld,
Ah... dn't touch me.
Taste me,
From a distance,
But if you touch,
Ice will turn,
And you will fail.
So,
To whom it may concern,
I'm a million different colours,
A million different things,
I gotta little girls face,
A couple little fiends,
I might be talking to this girl here,
And imagining her breats,
Maybe standing in underwear,
Or maybe even less.
Oh.. to whom it may concern,
i could be one of a million things,
The point is it doesn't concern you,
So get the hell outta my face. |
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