Kiss the girls

Done up in glitter and her angel wings - high on tequila and adrenaline

You don’t want to know the things she’s seen, or be alone in places that she’s been

She’ll kiss the boys... and make them cry

Captivated in a single beat; the smell of perfume and the taste of meat

She might not drink your blood

But she’ll take your soul anyway

 

Pumped up to music from their mobile phones, full of Dutch courage, doused in pheromones

But every evening ending all alone, ‘cos you’re the only one who’s going to take her home

You’ll kiss the girls... and make them cry

But in the morning when you wake up there to the stink of spermicide and cold despair

And those blue pills that you take

Can’t take away that cold ache

 

They don’t need sports cars of a chat-up line, can smell a broken heart from half a mile

Just a cocktail and a knowing smile: three parts loneliness and one denial

They’ll kiss you once... make you cry

And you’ll have something to remember this, the morning after pill or syphilis

And they’re not after blood,

They’re just misunderstood.