Seatbelt Hands by Listener
She's the kind of lady that calls everybody baby
Honey, sugar, sweetie, she's always making friends
And she keeps us all locked outside her thick leather skin
She always starts with a smile, it's small and butter yellow
But easier than a handshake, doesn't like her hands touched
She tans alot, gets burnt alot, smoking through the cartons
But then gets put out so much, she's considered a bargain
She was born on the fourth of july with her hand on her heart
Loves america, and being patronized, no one ever told her to guard her heart
She was an angel for Halloween once, but never again
And for Christmas ever year she's haunted by demons
They always tell her they love her.
She used to believe in innocence until she lost it
And spent a long summer, riding the trains
She has cats and collectors plates to keep her sane
Watching TV in her favorite chair, both of which are rented
She's alone, and surrounds herself with loners
Her life is a loan, lent out to anyone who will own her
Waiting for the night to sweep her off her feet, while she mops the bathroom floor
Hoping for a winning ticket or a man to treat her right
But they're both a gamble and she's been a loser all her life
And if she had a nickel for every time she's been punched and kicked
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