too punk to fuck (la femme idéale)

this is an ode to the out-of-reach, an elegy for the stuck-up bitch. fake living perfect on a plastic beach, dying pretty, distant, angry and rich. pink promiscuity tracksuits you so well. sunglass cage, pursed lips, and how i wish you'd go to hell. i hate it that i want you so badly. i haunt you 'cause i hate you so madly, and it feels like you're all the same. still, i can't keep saying my instinct's to blame, exploring the caverns of the want/need dichotomy. you breathed, blushed and your pretty eyes got to me. i'd ask you to leave me alone but you're doing your best already, so i'll sit here and imagine you moan while you live out your fucking tragedy.