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Georgia Fields
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Cold War
I stare at the Bible black bitumen
I keep finding pieces of you in my handbag
The memories, like treasure maps, take me back
To headlines on bedroom walls
And we sure knew how to put the fun in dysfunctionality
Now you spread yourself so thin
I can see right through
Your heart is hard like day old pita
Oh please, darling, don't get bitter
The hatchet is buried, the jury's still out
And the distance between us is smiling
Hold my breath and count to ten
Your finger is pointing in your self-righteous silence
I've been waiting in the wings for far too long
Been playing second fiddle, the piggy in the middle
Cross my heart and hope to die
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I'm not the consolation prize
Your heart is hard like day old pita
Oh please, darling, don't get bitter
The hatchet is buried, the jury's still out
And the distance between us is smiling
What you say, it doesn't make
It doesn't make a damn lick of difference
I'm a glittery circus girl walking the wire
And I'm throwing a party on our funeral pire
These little boulders you hold on your shoulders
Are dragging you down and they're taking me with you
I don't want in this Cold War
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