Lonely Girl (feat. Bodi)

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Tim Stiles

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She's an internet princess, cynical and senseless
Maniacally posting golden idols on Pinterest
Her interests pop! culture balloons
I watch her consume popular trends instead of minding my business

Usually I'd grimace behind closed doors
Disable her news feed and quit perusing her pictures
But tonight I'm bored of the normal eye-sores
With a face like hers I'm enacting forgiveness

I've got a case of "the Saturdays"
Funny how my patterns change from indifferent to listless
Expectations tend to gravitate from acceptable to sexual
Within a matter of seconds

A quality I live with, not something to live for
Getting all sprung like the Young and the Restless
I see a beauty that blissful, defying logistics
Suitably sinful once applying her lipstick

I tend to forget regretful, past experiences
And make decisions in haste, far too fast and furious
Tonight I'm lonely, combing the interwebs
So once at my wit's end I send her a friend request

When I first wrote this verse, I was 22
And grew up a little since then, who woulda knew

The twists and turns and bridges burned
And wishes that now sit in urns
We live and learn, I guess, but what I'm running from and running to

Are two different things - and you are the latter
Not something to climb on, like you're all that matters

Cause you are and you do
But I lost track of who
I was when we started, say a prayer for the departed

But don't mourn
We're all walking through this storm
Alone in the end, but we can keep each other warm

In the meantime and freeze time like tears in their tracks
And let go of squeezing on to fears in our past

I've taken you for granted, hope you know I didn't plan it
Grew a rose up through the granite, but the sewn seeds I planted

And the damage I've done to you and your path
Justifies why you said Kiss. My. Ass

Can't sleep, too distressed from social media overdose
Need get some rest but instead eating a Toblerone in bed
Chocolate covered sheets, I'm a mess
Damn this Y-chromosome and it's birds and bees overtones

How does she hold her own while I'm so obsessed?
We haven't even met, yet I invest so much time home alone
Deleting what I write, she's not even my type
I should be counting sheep instead of caressing this mobile phone

I've only known happiness when I leave the past to roam
All on its own and kept my eyes off of the greener grasses grown
No magic path or stepping stones atone for hearts I've torn to bits
Shorn the wolf, sheep clothing fits, resorted to recording this

Perhaps the moral of the story is: If its not glorious
Ensure your pride in morals outweighs acting discouraged, since
You never know, after a dime a dozen clicks
It'll redirect... "This profile doesn't exist"

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