Alone in your dorm trying to stay warm, you're scared of the words that you might write, if you stay in again tonight. Like all the saints and whores who lay here before, you're scared of the things that you might do while you wait for him to come to you. (I understand. I understand.) Loneliness is pornography to them but to us it is an art. They won't read your biography, these men, they will only break your heart. But I read it, then I wrote it. I read it, then I wrote it. I read it, then I wrote it again. Alone in your dorm, you pull the fire alarm. You're scared of the words that you might write if you stay in again tonight. In your tattered mess of a wedding dress, you're scared of the things that you might do while you wait for him to come to you. (I understand. I understand.) Loneliness is pornography to them but to us it is an art. They won't read your biography, these men, they will only break your heart. But I read it, then I wrote it. I read it, then I wrote it. I read it, then I wrote it again. Out in front of your dorm a crowd will form.