- Tori Amos
So I ran faster
but it caught me here.
Yes, my loyalties turned,
like my ankle
in the seventh grade,
running after Billy,
running after the rain.
These precious things,
let them bleed,
let them wash away.
These precious things,
let them break
their hold over me.
He said "you're really an ugly girl
but I like the way you play"
and I died
but I thanked him.
Can you believe that?
Sick, holding on to his picture,
dressing up every day.
I wanna smash the faces
of those beautiful boys,
those christian boys.
So you can make me come,
that doesn't make you Jesus.
I remember...
Yes... In my peach
party dress,
no one dared,
no one cared
to tell me
where the pretty girls are.
Those demigods
with their nine-inch nails
and little fascist panties
tucked inside the heart
of ever nice girl.
These precious things,
let them bleed,
let them wash away.
These precious things,
let them break,
let them wash away.
.
