There’s a headlight in the distance and it catches the dust in its view Which moved in the gasp of every breath I take And the dice on your mirror collect mites from the seats that accumulate from all the slag’s who sit there but the smears on the gear stick aren’t from sweat on your palms. You know what I’m talking about you fucker. All I can think of as we are driving 5 minutes down the road to pick up some milk because she used it all up in her morning coffee A morning coffee and a shoot of heroin. Was fuck you. And then when we went to get some petrol and we filled up the tank I couldn’t help but slip my hand down my trousers while I was waiting for you to fill up my gas tank. And then we went back home and I lay on your bedroom floor and you ruined the moment by telling me that you loved me so I had to tape your mouth shut and tie you to a chair. I hope you didn’t enjoy yourself when I was sitting on top of you because it wasn’t supposed to be pleasure. You weren’t meant to want it. And we had an agreement to untie you but you fucking didn’t stick to it because you’re a loser so you crushed me like an ant instead beneath your fingers I’m still stuck