P.O.S Follow

Million dollar baby girl,
in the lower middle class,
with a Maglite right beneath her pillow,
and though shes never been a boxer by choice,
she's known to act Oak,
you'll never catch her a Willow,
Nuh uh...
She's the calm type,
you see those small scars creeping down her arm,
peeking from those long sleeves, right?
she keeps him week in the knees,
but she stays outta sight,
and when that school bell rings,
its goodnight,
or might as well be,
he never see's her around,
but he looks,
for weeks now,
he's bet maybe tomorrow,
but he's shook,
he sees those bruises,
and he needs to please her,
plus he don't wanna go home either...

gives her a look,
they pass,
copies down a poem from his school book,
gives it to her after hesitation whoops his ass,
he took it fast,
lost the cause,
chased in her hands,
then braces herself gracefully,
sturdy where she stands,
on some,
humble mumble,
and past the words fumble,
and nothing discouraging,
just nerves,
drawing up the courage,
something about skylines,
and bike rides,
and river beds,
something,
something that he read,
it caught her right beneath the armor,
cauterized thought of any blunt force trauma,
ain't no way that he can harm her, come on..

now cursed be the shell,
like a snake with fresh scales,
some people seem to call that home,
some souls wrong,
keep riding till that cycle is broke,
you ain't gotta go though nothing alone,
now cursed be the shell,
like a snake with fresh scales,
some people seem to call that home,
some souls wrong,
keep riding till that cycle is broke,
you ain't gotta go though nothing alone...

shes used to weather the whole storm,
hugging on her prince,
his hands to skin warm,
quick out the door,
no note,
no forlorn,
cause all they heard was papa don't hit me no more,
but they couldn't seem to keep the swindle down,
how they regret ever letting out this third child,
born,
but things are getting better now,
yea cozy sweater now,
with the thumbs through the holes,
and the sleeves worn down,
and her boy's similar,
noise minimal,

joy simple,
when someones found it in you,
somehow it boosts the individual,
that blue is hue is mutual,
they make love gently,
so aware of each others bruises,
and sort of scared they can loose this,
trust,
bury the blues somewhere it won't bear roots,
but is this boy where the truth is?
shes spooked,
see fruit never seems to fall far,
from the useless branch that its attached to,
and quacks say if hes beat up,
he's bound to smack you,
shes down to step back now,
if he ever got loud,
she couldn't be proud of whatever she might do,
but its the first time she's ever felt touch,
that didn't bring her to hush,
like something was being done to her,
that unscrews her,
she looses with the booze,
her hinge can stay bent,
addressing her dudes wounds,
regressing to bedrooms,
where fools ignore,
don't,
he's not one of them tools that screws nuts and bolts,
and she know that,
and she know that,
but she holds back,
and she hope that,
he see's the way she flinched,
when his knee jerked,
and brace for attack,
even if he's only rubbing her back,
i mean,
and even if its like the deck has been stacked,
its not an act,
he's really loving her back,
hold your heart up...

Never raise your hands,
he says that with a grown up voice,
i'm yours now,
just like a child,
please don't be scared now,
eclipse,
a piece finally fits,
i love you,
i love you,
they say that with their lips,
never raise your hands,
he says that with a grown up voice,
i'm yours now,
just like a child,
please don't be scared now,
eclipse,
a piece finally fits,
i love you,
i love you...

now cursed be the shell
like a snake with fresh scales
some people seem to call that home
some souls wrong
keep riding till that cycle is broke
you ain't gotta go though nothing alone,
now cursed be the shell
like a snake with fresh scales
some people seem to call that home
some souls wrong
keep riding till that cycle is broke
you ain't gotta go though nothing alone...

Million dollar baby girl,
in the lower middle class,
with a Maglite right beneath her pillow,