Her natural hair's the kind you hide in shame
Another cigarette waiting for him again
With your little saint-girl height
She doesn't even reach my shoulders in the light
You smell like perfume mixed with nicotine
She wears a ligeti t-shirt, acting seventeen
But he knows you're only static, drift and lag
Like a hundred dying metronomes falling out of phase
'Cause your daddy issues built a paper man
Too scared to love me like a real man can
So he disappears inside your smoke-filled room
Playing castro in cheap Cuban perfume
She's just a harry potter baby in disguise
Waiting for him with marlboro reds and desperate eyes
This isn't love, it's self-destruction dressed in gold
Two sad little egos trying to look avant-garde and cold
You smell like perfume mixed with nicotine
She wears ligeti like it means something obscene
And he knows your fake avant-garde's a mirage
A hundred broken metronomes dying out of phase
'Cause your daddy issues built a paper man
Too scared to love me like a real man can
So he disappears inside your smoke-filled room
Playing castro in cheap Cuban perfume
That's why he always comes back to me
Red eyes glowing like a cursed movie scene
Like a sinner driving endless desert highways
Trying to find salvation in my jasmine taste
Like I'm some black magic
Tarot cards scattered underneath motel lights
'Cause your daddy issues built a paper man
Too scared to hold me with his trembling hands
So he disappears inside your smoke-filled room
Playing castro in cheap Cuban perfume
Fuck you, bitch