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A Heat Rash in the Shape of the Show Me State; or, Letters from Me to Charlotte

Los Campesinos!

Romance Is Boring


She'd a bruise so black they watched it fade through the full spectrum of colours
They kept it like a pet; a private joke they told no others
And how the tissue repaired, and how it turned to yellow
And she found it disgusting, cause it didn't match her clothing
He said "that's not yellow, it's golden"

Walk out onto your front lawn and face into the rain
Shout into the wind "This'll never be the same"

The promised they'd be best of friends from now until forever
But both were far too needy not to fall for the other
And how the frequent public displays of sisterly affection
Left her feeling safe, left him with an erection

Walk out onto your front lawn and face into the rain
Shout into the wind "This'll never be the same"

Her body barely visible, as bleach-white as the bedsheets
As stiff as starched, only perceptible as her middle was still branded
With a heat rash in the perfect shape of the Show-Me State
Your come on lines sound disastrous; noise more foreboding than volcano or earthquake

Walk out onto your front lawn and face into the rain
Shout into the wind "This'll never be the same"

Letter from me to Charlotte
"They appropriated everything we ever loved, and dressed it up in quotations and fluff
And I had a dream: [though said with hands in pocket, I mean it hand on heart]
You held a gun to his head, pressed your thumbs to her throat"
In these letters. Letters from me to Charlotte

Walk out onto your front lawn and face into the rain
Shout into the wind "This'll never be the same"

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