Space Bag to the Last Drag

It would have been so easy to change.
What lurked inside had wanted me to stay.
Misery takes and gives to the betrayed.
I took what I could from my mistakes,
so maybe one day the mirror on the wall,
won't keep me in place, feeling so small.

Push for a chance to rearrange the words.
Make them bold make them sting,
Hot, scolding, covering everything,
Put the curse in reverse, pulled out by a string.

Look at it, look at it, feel the dramatics.
I've had it with accidents, chasing things that don't make sense.
Pendulum swing, repetitious dreams.
What is this vile feeling, thought I'd die before ever truly healing.
Have another drink while I wait for the ceiling to cave in.

Sometimes a well placed fuck is in order.
I prefer the room with cigarette stench for borders.
Whore matters not, as every key seems to turn her precious lock.
Sex always in stock at her tiny shanty shop.
Don't mind the clock as the sweat drops.

Need a home to crawl into, a deep dark hole that swallows.
Where the noise of the night life isn't muddled
by the strife of violent struggles.
Where the people share love instead of dissatisfaction of never having enough.
Trust when I say that this place does exist,
spoken from the cold lips of a mistress myth.