The million footsteps far climax


I used to read meaningless titled books
For meaningless men with average sized self esteem
Which only got bigger after good sex.
And sometimes, even after bad sex.

I'm no longer selling myself
To the slutiest bidder,
For my hand started to hurt
From wanking this image of myself.

An attempt to rub the ich in my brain
Got me meeting new people,
And they are all beautifully fucked up.
And they are all equally mad.

If I play my cards right
Some lady might invite me
To look inside her mind.
If I'm hopelessy unlucky
She will open her legs for me.