the one that i'm with thinks sex is a beautiful thing and that's simply adorable.
when my time is affordable, dimes pay the price. i get abusive and that's the truth.
it's just a fuckin' shame this is how i choose to communicate,
excuses i produce have their roots in the music i make.
she's not a fan...nor am i famous.
i may just change and adjust
when i branch out and leave. get off my damn couch and achieve
what i dream about, leave my house, hand out my keys
to the sleepless beauty who failed math class and can't count her z's.
ha ha ha ha "the tree died."
she says that she's mine, she's my proprietress.
i can't hold onto most of what i own, besides she likes to kiss
and that's cute. i hug her 'til i start to hurt her.
she wants to dance to my pulse but i've got heart murmurs.
a shark circles our lifeboat 'til its fin folds.
the monster we created might choke in clothes.
i'm naked walking tightropes without big toes,
couldn't see this with a nightscope if my skin glowed.

falling, calling for a safety net.
the great white might drain me of my life, bite into my veiny neck.
wet dreams of falling asleep
could dry up when she sees that i bleed off beat.
head over heels 'cause she's tripping on her own feet,
that puzzled look on her face that isn't complete.
she gives bits and pieces of herself.
while i'm breaking myself open, i pour my contents to her shelf.
pardon me, but is that me wearing my hard-on on my sleeve?
with razor sharp teeth...gnawing at my wrist... how beautiful is this?
the most beautifulist thing in the world,
is making up words when i have none else left to say to a girl.
making her curl up in a ball in the corner of my eye,
taking a time-out, i don't want her to cry.
i don't ever wanna be considered the sort of guy
who says "i just might break your face tonight."

i spread my love like the legs of a crackwhore,
we sleep together but don't sleep to keep it simple.
you dance around me like a fire,
blow me away, blow me away.

i spread my love like the legs of a crackwhore,
we sleep together but don't sleep to keep it simple.
you dance around me like a fire,
blow me out and i'll send you love poems in the form of smoke signals.

over-average marriage materialist, mr. righteous,
a savage miscarriage of justice. just us and the dust that never settles.
i'm rust that spreads on metal to make it weak, plus disgustingly ugly.
nobody wants to fuck with or touch me.
underappreciative with a hundred weaknesses. what do i need to live?
the blood i bleed is thicker than the skin i shed people with.
beat a fist to the air, pretend to make believe she cares,
'til i open up old wounds, and the usual bruises on my ego appear.
i'm a low self-esteem engine in need of a whorespower. out of sleeping powder.
dark clouds follow me with heat-seekers, i need a colder shower.
the showboat won't expose his open ended quest,
'cause it won't float if it turns out these are permanent echoes in his chest.
i think it's best to turn the reverb down, kill the delay,
and get me the fuck out of this cave!

i could paint you pictures all day.
but i'm not gonna pander to neanderthals that way.
i'm not gonna pander to neanderthals today (uh uh).

the one that i'm with thinks sex is a beautiful thing.
she thinks i'm something special. she's my specialist and more beautiful than sex.
'cause only something like sex can make something so lovely turn ugly, and fuck up shit.
i'm holding a sleepless beauty pageant on my shark infested water bed until it's punctured.

i spread my love, spread my love, spread my love until i pull a muscle.
spread my love, spread my love, spread my love until it's see-through.

i spread my love like the legs of a crackwhore,
we sleep together but don't sleep to keep it simple.
you dance around me like a fire,
blow me away, blow me away.

i spread my love like the legs of a crackwhore,
we sleep together but don't sleep to keep it simple.
you dance around me like my fire,
blow me out and i'll send you love poems in the form of smoke signals.


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  • +5
    General CommentThe guy is dating an idealistic girl who is naive and is not yet exposed to the hardships of the world; she believes that sex is a sacred thing while the narrator disagrees, having already been corrupted solely by living. He, however, still thinks that her ideals are precious, like when little kids say something completely absurd and get away with it because of their cute naivete.

    The narrator is usually busy with his music, but when he's free, he either pays prostitutes --complete strangers or just women he doesn't care about for sex because he is sadistic and can't stand to hurt the only one who believes in him. He is disappointed in this behavior but has accepted it, attempting to explain it in his music but recognizes that they are just excuses. The idealistic girl, however, doesn't understand what he is trying to communicate in his songs, and neither does anyone else, hence why he is an unpopular artist.

    The narrator talks about how he may one day change and leave the hellhole of his life and achieve in his endeavors. He fantasizes about reaching success and spoiling the idealistic girl, the pitiful romantic who is so naive that he believes it is stupid. Even so, he cares deeply about this girl and she is completely infatuated with him despite his rugged personality. He is afraid of hurting her and realizes that he often comes close. She wants him to open up to her, but he is reluctant because he knows the extent of the pain his abusive personality will cause if released. He eventually gives in to his desires for her and they have sex, and afterward the fiery personality that he had been hiding from her comes out.

    When she finally sees this side of him, this causes her hopes about the two of them to eventually disintegrate, and she also realizes that all that she had felt was infatuation caused by her ignorance of his true nature and her idealism. She starts to stop giving as much as she used to, and he then begins to try but can only communicate through sex and violence. He, after scaring her into a corner, realizes what he is doing and is again disappointed in his behavior and attempts to apologize by placating her with made up words to appeal to her love of adorable things, as he doesn't know what else to say.

    In the chorus, he describes how the only outlet for him that she can somewhat understand is sex (as she doesn't get his music), and how she now fears him and tries to avoid him even while pretending that she's okay. The guilt causes him to hate himself for the role he believes he plays in other lives --the rust that weakens and destroys them. In a constant state of panic, he forces himself to pretend that she still cares but his attempts falter when he sees a hint of apathy in the once very hopeful and loving girl. He is emotionally alone and desperate, and feels haunted by the paranoia which causes his anger.

    A part of him still wants to try to cater to her, or rather, aspire to do so (without ever actually doing it), but he then, after realizing that it no longer matters, degrades her in his mind as an attempt to calm himself down.

    He later, in another attempt to ease his mind (also illustrating the civil war in his mind), resorts to telling himself that she is the best thing that has happened to him and blames sex for messing up their relationship, once again making excuses in his music.

    In the very last line he says, "blow me out and I'll send you love poems in the form of smoke signals."
    Smoke signals are used to signal danger from a far off distance, and what he means by this is that he wants her to leave him (but doesn't ever communicate it), and says that when she does, he will at last tragically show her his love after all this time by warning her to never come back to him.
    Kenoticiston October 09, 2008   Link
  • 0
    General CommentI used to think this song was about America's idea of "masculinity" in relationships.
    poiboyon October 31, 2004   Link
  • 0
    General Commentwould never wish this song to be about me duno why you would..unfortunately relate too well to the narrator..think a lota us do..ha probably why we listen to sage..and props kenoticist..real as fuck
    toyon June 23, 2009   Link
  • 0
    General CommentPersonally, as a woman, this song makes me want to kill myself. I love Sage Francis, though. Shit.
    shedolanon September 01, 2010   Link
  • -1
    General CommentThere are just some songs you wish were written about you... this is one of those for me. "The one that I'm with thinks sex is a beautiful thing..." thats me all the way.

    "'cause only something like sex can make something so lovely turn ugly, and fuck up shit. " --- so fucking true

    "i spread my love, spread my love, spread my love until i pull a muscle"--- once again, thats me. it reminds me of how much i give, and how little get in return.
    anewkindof_meon September 24, 2004   Link

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