Sex Surrogate

VERSE 1

It’s been forever since our last session

Not much going on that’s worth mention

I still coast through life at a turtle’s pace

I still have my famous Resting Bitch Face

Should’ve called you when I had the chance

Not much happening in the way of romance

How many more sessions am I allowed to have?

Can we still meet for at least an hour and a half?

VERSE 2

I’m sorry I’m late, but traffic was a mess

I’m sorry for these excuses I must confess

I got cold feet and stalled for a while

I might as well be walking the green mile

We all know how this session will end

I can’t be cured, but I can make amends

I’m sorry I’m not who you want me to be

Whether in bed or in life, nothing is free

VERSE 3

I must admit that I’m starting to like you

I’m sorry if this confession frightens you

I know we can’t have romantic feelings

But it’s a desire which I’ve been feeding

You’re married and happy, I understand

Reciprocation isn’t something I demand

I just had to get it all off my chest today

What a wonderful time to feel so brave

VERSE 4

This isn’t working, give me back my pills

This never ending pain is mine to kill

Sedated and jaded, everything has faded

Nothing left after my ego has deflated

The comfort zone is calling my name

It tells me to stop playing these sex games

It tells me that taking risks is foolish

Maybe I’ll listen until the day I’m ghoulish

Quicksand Dance Floor

VERSE 1

When you stand next to her, you start to shiver

You feel the coldness of a raging white river

You feel the illness of a rollercoaster rider

You feel the depression, you’re sick and tired

Shrug it off; it’s just a first world problem

You and the world have nothing in common

Put it in perspective, because it works every time

Ignore the heartache and the tears in your eyes

CHORUS 1

This is your life for the next thirty years

This is your sadness for the next hundred tears

Welcome to the quicksand dance floor, my friend

You lost your soul to a coming of age trend

VERSE 2

You missed your chance to be a bona fide stud

Now everyone is laughing at you like Elmer Fudd

Dante could never survive this brutal comedy

You could never survive this mental sodomy

You kick yourself repeatedly for never being brave

To your own disaster, you are the humble slave

Don’t worry, you wouldn’t want her anyways

She’ll scream in your ear every night and every day

CHORUS 2

This is your life until you’re old and cold

You always did as your detractors told

Welcome to the quicksand dance floor, old man

The corner is there, do something with your hands

BRIDGE

It’s too late to take her hand

It’s too late to join her band

It’s too late to rise from the sand

Your magnum opus was critically panned

VERSE 3

Turn back the clock to the very last hour

Before you kicked the bouquet and became sour

A simple question for the lovely lady

Yes or no? You could settle for maybe

CHORUS 3

This is your life with your newfound wife

You’re wearing a suit, she’s wearing white

Turn your back to the quicksand dance floor

Run wild and free while asking for more