Dirty Pictures from Foreign Life by Pony Girl

You keep calling.
I’d rather feel it now.
Everything you've ever felt is coming to life.
On paper, it's better than it seems.

Mark my word, my insecurities won't show.
I'll hide them with pictures of self-control.
I am insatiable.
Make it look like it's by will
and not a dying trend that speaks of profit,
“At what expense?”
Pictures of glorious fame, idol of bronze remains.
Not a scratch to remind our youth,
”You'll fade away.”

Darling, don't you know,
that's not how they do it in the movies.
On my hands and knees,
don't you wish to please me?
Sell love.
Whatever you say, it's meat to me.

Look into the lens and smile.
The eye of providence won't shy
at pictures of dominant ways.
Power to those who wait by your side,
while you take more from the little faith
that I have left in our old ways.
Pictures of falsified hope.
I don't think they know that it's what we fear that sells.

Daddy’s little girl.
Boy, I wouldn't want to be mommy's little man.
I swear he wouldn't hurt a fly.
Well, that time he was high —
powdered face and broken glass.
Cut his knuckles,
dry nose bleeding down his favourite shirt.
He wants to match the red, film it all.
Act as though nothing’s wrong.

You keep calling.
I’d rather feel it now.

• Alternative
• Electronic
• art pop
• art rock
• dream pop
• indie
• Ottawa