Looker

We walked next to a street full of speeding cars
We walked like they had stolen ours
The pace-car made for what was a hurried hour
You picked at love-me-not flowers
And i hope the worst ones come true
I hope i don’t think the way that their screen taught me to
I know the low sound of a steady voice
‘if you love something you’d better profit’
And you wear a guard like your guard against a lie
The lie that told you to speak quiet
As something to look at on a screen
I hope you don’t look at all pretty to me
Painted a word on the side of your shirt
You can’t be all they’re defining
And i remain lost in my father’s exhaust
And you can’t just be a name to find
And in time, find us stuck
To all those terms made up
Like a picture to hang on the wall
Adolescent bedroom wall
On the wall