E-motive

She twists her strawberry hair,
And she pouts those thirsty lips,
The lights make her dizzy as
She moves into his hips…
She smiles a perfect smile,
But to me she looks fragmented,
Like the women Picasso painted
Illogical and plastic.
So get up from your seats,
Don't go back until you're satisfied,
You're seventeen now,
Dance to every song tonight.
She acts like her typecast,
But we're all doing our parts,
She walks away with the boys,
To ride in speeding cars.
Are you having fun right now?
Tomorrow will tell for sure,
I'm sleeping on the front lawn,
I'll wait for you…
I'll wait for you some more.
You're seventeen now,
You don't need a motive.
You're seventeen now,
You don't need a conscience.

Written by Chris Yeoman