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GOOD FOR NOW GIRL
You'd think I'd learn by now
But what does a silly girl know?
About love, life and everything in between
How could I think he could love me?
Some of us add fuel to the fire
Some of us run from the flames
There's not much difference between a cock and a knife
The deeper they go
Same pleasure, same pain
Chorus: I wanna be your bride
Always by your side
The center of your life
But I'm not, No, I'm not
I wanna be your girl
The center of your world
Not a good for now girl
Not a good for now girl
Not a good for now girl
You'd think I'd come to my senses
Bite the bullet and face the truth
But who wants to face the truth
When they know they've played the fool
Some of us add fuel to the fire
Some of us run from the flames
There's not much difference between a cock and a knife
The deeper they go
Same pleasure, same pain
(Repeat Chorus)
There's not much difference between fantasy and truth
Same pleasure, same pain
(Repeat Chorus)
FRAGILE
Young man, what are you feeling?
As you stick your cock inside her
Do you love her?
I'm asking you, do you love her?
She's been here before, a victim of love
Her power in your hands
Think twice before sticking it in
She's fragile
Young man, are your words true?
When you say I love you
Don't serve up your twisted lies
She's sick and tired
She's been here before, a victim of lies
Her worth in your hands
Think twice before taking her life
She's fragile
There's making love and there's fucking
Do you know how to make love boy?
No, I'm not talking about fucking
I'm talking about making love
Young man, can you make her happy?
Do you have what it takes?
To make her happy
Can you put her needs before yours?
She's been here before
A victim of circumstance
Her very being in your hands
Don't be careless with her heart
She's fragile
THE VIRGIN AND THE WHORE
I dreamt I was a mother, gentle and kind
Funny cuz I never pictured myself giving birth
I dreamt I was the devoted wife, loyal and true
Funny cuz I never thought I could give up my freedom
Give up my freedom!
I dreamt I was the mistress, accused and shamed
I bowed my head and was forced to recite Exodus 20:14
I dreamt I was the frontdesk receptionist hiking up my skirt for hungry eyes
Yes, the rumours are true about the vice president and I
I dreamt I was a topless dancer, every man's fantasy
Painted by dollar bills, clothed in thongs and paisties
Every perverts fantasy!
I dreamt I was a victim, don't us women love to play the victim?
Raped in the back room of a bar on fourth street
I dreamt I was the rebel, cigarette between my lips
Cursing society, and mommy and daddy
I dreamt I was the bride of Jesus, married to the church
Everyday is Sunday morning
Sunday morning
Every man wants a virgin he can turn into a whore
He'll take her and teach her
Make her and break her
I looked at my reflection, and there she stood
Both the virgin and the whore
October 19-23rd 1998
DESIRED
I want to slip out of this skin
Immersed in messages society sends
All these mistakes we make in order to fit in
I am the self-loathing reflection I see in the mirror every morning
I am the suicidal figure with the blades at her wrists
I am the gifted unaware of her full potential
Her passion, her strength
I am the girl who wants out of this town
Out of this head and out of these times
I am the girl who stares through envious blues at visions society defines as beauty
I wanna be that definition of beauty
I wanna be the girl with the tan flawless skin
In the size two dress and high heels
Nails manicured, legs shaved, hair perfectly styled
I wanna be the girl who's desired by millions
Whose poster hangs over beds in adolescent bedrooms
I wanna be the cheerleader who's fucked the whole football team
Whose phone number appears on high school bathroom stalls
I am the girl who cringes when she's referred to as "A Good Girl"
I wanna be the girl in chiffon and lace
Gazing at her exboyfriend as she sings, the gypsy queen
I wanna be the rebellious ministers daughter
Child prodigy, rape victim, The Cornflake Girl
I wanna be the lady of the canyon
Giving up her love child, painting herself Van Gogh
I wanna make mistakes, cuz as these women know
Mistakes become great songs
I am the girl who can't shake him from her mind
I am the girl who can't remove the sensation of his lips on hers
I wanna be the girl with the man at her side
I wanna be the girl in the rockstars bed
I wanna be the mistress of this vice president
I wanna be the girl who gives
Who opens her legs and gives
Whenever she is wanted
All these images of beauty that greet these jeolous eyes
Shrouded in loathing I question
Please, in my next life
Can I come back as a whore?
1998
TREMORS
I knew what I wanted to do.
I've known for some time.
Ears reluctant to listen, rejected my voice.
No sympathetic volunteer could rescue the fragile little girl,
clinging to her dreams like freedom.
Oh, freedom, come the day!
Conservative minds could not comprehend such desires,
such passion.
How could a twelve-year old know such passion?
I remember being adolescent and sending tremors all through the house.
Those tremors made the universe tremble,
and struck like lightning,
causing the stars to lose their alignment.
I felt a need.
I felt this desire to be free.
I spent years, cutting the ties that bound me.
I began my journey on a wild night,
haunted by mommy's and daddy's cries.
"She'll never do it!" They said.
"She'll never do it!"
Their voices carried into the dark.
I felt the need to reach out my hand,
to cry,
to scream for release from the fears that plagued me like disease.
But I kept going.
I kept going.
Determined to prove everyone wrong.
Stroding
deeper and deeper into the darkness,
determined
to claim my place in the world,
determined
to save my identity.
I remember causing tremors that shook the house.
I remember being twenty one
like it was yesterday.
FEBRUARY 16, 2000
THE COURAGE TO GROW
I was so driven in my youth.
I would stop at nothing to make sure
That my dreams became a reality.
But then one day something changed.
One day I woke up,
and the passions that were once passions,
weren't passions anymore.
The hunger that churned inside me,
and kept me awake at night,
had dissolved to nothingness.
That driving force that had driven me for so long,
wasn't driving me anymore.
I took one look in your eyes,
and suddenly,
I felt that passion,
that hunger.
No longer did melodies and sweet lyrics of rhyme capture me.
No longer did the image of fame and fortune consume me.
No longer did the glory of applause fulfill me.
I look into your eyes.
You fulfill me.
You consume me.
You capture me.
You make me feel like Karolyn.
FEBRUARY 20, 2000
I WANT TO LIVE
I want to give up my dreams.
I want to live for you.
I want to live with the pain of regret.
I want to make the mistakes the human race makes.
I want to pack my belongings
and settle in,
into your arms.
Settle into you
for the rest of my life.
I want to give up my name and take yours.
I want to bare your children.
I want to wake up to screaming babies and the alarm clock buzzing at five a.m.
I want to wake up to you every morning.
Wake up to your beauty
To your thrusting
To your soft touch
I want to pack your lunch every morning
and kiss you passionately as you leave for the office.
I want to live for our two little angels.
The ones with your features and my mischievious side.
No longer do I live for the studio and those spoken word performances.
No, I want to live for changing diapers and three a.m. feedings.
I want to live for Gymborie, Mommy and Me classes and Oprah at three p.m.
I want to live for our six month old son's smile.
I want to live to see him take his first step.
I want to feel the pain of skinned knees and black eyes when our children behave as children will.
I want to live for the way you look into my eyes.
The way you feed me,
The way our children feed us.
I want to live for you and our children.
I want to be the woman who gives up her dreams for her family.
APRIL 10-11, 2000
WHAT LIFE HAS BECOME
In my youth, I was so certain.
I'm not certain about anything anymore.
Not the future, not the present, nor the past
I remember a time when I lived my life with ease.
But anymore, I don't know how to laugh.
I don't know who to believe anymore.
Who can I trust?
Who is my friend?
Who isn't out just for himself?
God, where are my friends!?
I can't deal with the uncertainty anymore.
They say, everyone is a little shady.
Everyone has their own agenda.
Maybe so, but if that's the case,
How will I know if his intentions are good?
I suppose I'll have to look within,
but what does looking within really mean?
I can't deal with the lies anymore.
Oh, so many days, I shake my head when I think of what I've done.
So many days, I crawl away and hide when I think of what life has become.
Oh, what life has become.
There's such a fine line between good and bad and right and wrong.
Between virgin and whore, between here and gone.
I can't take the sleepless nights anymore.
I'm a lost girl, and I'm a sad girl.
I can't choose between being alone and being a friend.
Oh, and there was a time when I wanted to be a whore so bad.
Now if only I could turn back time to be a virgin again.
I can't the rumours anymore.
I can't take the pain anymore.
I can't take the waiting anymore.
I can't take the unknowing anymore.
I can't live life anymore.
APRIL 10-11, 2000
RUNNING AWAY FROM MYSELF
Most days, I don't like myself very much.
They say I'm loving, well, maybe to everyone but me.
I abuse myself, neglect myself, time and time again.
Most days I spend, running away from me.
Most days, I'm the farthest I can be from myself.
I'm just drifting along, drifting along, drifting along.
I find it hard to distinguish between good and evil.
Love and lust and right and wrong.
Most days, I'm miles away from sanity.
Here in my own private hell, the flames of rage are burning.
They're burning, burning, burning, burning.
Most days I spend, running away from me.
I'm a prisoner of this burden we call life.
I didn't want it, can't take it, want out of it
I've done my time.
Set me free.
Oh, will you set me free?
Most days, I'm my worst enemy.
I ridicule, reject, and leave myself for dead.
The two I wanted didn't want me.
Now, watch me run out of this head.
APRIL 23-24, 2000
EMPTINESS
I'm missing you already.
Like winter in summer,
July's forgotten snow.
Come take a peek at a week in the life
of a woman in love.
Living a life of uncertainty,
A life of "I don't knows"
Bridge:
Don't ask too many questions.
(Don't push him away)
Don't make too many plans.
(They'll go up in smoke!)
Don't wish for too much too soon.
Give love the room to bloom.
Chorus:
Feel the emptiness of yesterdays kiss
Feel the minutes escape
Feel the thorn of separation, the drug of desperation
How long must I wait?
I ask no questions,
and the days go by.
I bite my tongue,
dreading another goodbye.
Come take a peek at a week in the life
of a woman in love.
Living a life of uncertainty,
A life of "I don't knows"
(Repeat Bridge)
(Repeat Chorus)
And the months go by.
Debating between two lives
Convention or rebellion, responsibility versus freedom,
Mother or gypsy?
I can't decide
APRIL 25th, 2000
PASSIONLESS
I guess I should be thankful for the time that we do have.
For the joy and the bliss, every touch and every kiss
It's the days in between that drive me insane.
I guess I should be relieved that I'm not tied down yet,
That I'm still fancy free, I'm still independent.
But this distance between us drives a knife through my heart and I refuse to play games.
Oh, I'd love to get inside your head to know what you're thinking.
Am I part of your plan? Gee how I'd love to be part of your plan
Your lifetime plan.
I'm so tired from trying to figure it out.
You and the situation.
I used to be so full of life, some time ago.
Not anymore, no, not anymore.
You've drained this young woman of all her passion.
I guess I should thank my lucky stars for the nights of pleasure.
For the days we spend and the abundant laughter.
It's the unknowing that drives me insane
I used to be so full of life, some time ago.
Not anymore, no, not anymore.
You've drained this woman of all her passion.
Maybe I'm too deep; maybe I'm too sensitive.
Maybe I'm not worthy of love in return.
The kind of love that I have to give.
Oh, and I guess I should be thankful for the time that we do have.
The time that I cherish, that I cherish, that I cherish.
Oh, I guess I should be thankful for the time that we do have.
I just hope you know how much I adore you.
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| Angry white female explores her erotic fantasies. | MP3.com CD: "DESIRED" -  buy it!
CD: Desired, soon to be called The Virgin and the Whore
Label: Mp3 Records
Credits: Les July - all instruments and production |
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