Built to Lust
Pretend this isn’t yours, little girl.
Fill those eyes with ghosts,
And we’ll take them for a ride.
Fill them with hope,
And we’ll dazzle them with style

Pretend this isn’t love, little girl.
No one desires you for who you are;
That vulnerable heart,
Filled with all those honorable mentions,

We started out confined to our sadness,
And now we sit and take pills for our madness.

Pretend not to break, little girl.
Inside you're shattered to shreds,
from words like splinters of glass,
Taken from the barrel of life’s gun,
I dangle on the trigger,
While you dance with the crosshair,
Pretending all the while,
That he could love you back.