'cause baby, i'm an anarchist,
you're a spineless liberal.
we marched together for the eight-hour day
and held hands in the streets of Seattle,
but when it came time to throw bricks
through that starbucks window,
you left me all alone.
we'd stay up late, talking about whatever, thinking about whatever, doing whatever. you'd probably talk about your dog (what a sweet old thing), and i would talk about my worries.
you'd refer to me as your girlfriend, and i'd ask you to call me your boyfriend.
you'll listen, going from partner to boyfriend. you'll be perfectly okay with it.
and when the bruises on your neck show on camera, you'll call me your vampire boyfriend.
we'll watch the sunset from the back alley and make our way to wherever, to the end, possibly.
and when you fall, i'll fall too.
we'll make art on each others skin, ranging from bite marks to full out paintings.
when the world collapses, you'll be by my side, humming softly into my hair, and we'll be okay.
we're okay.
