a tori fag from the old skool

"Glue
stuck to my shoes
does anyone know why you play with an orange rind
you say you packed my things
and divided what was mine
you’re off to the mountain top
I say her skinny legs could use sun
but now I’m wishing
for my best impression
of my best Angie Dickinson
but now I’ve got to worry
cause boy you still look pretty
when you’re putting the damage on

don’t make me scratch on you door
I never left you
for a Banjo
I only just turned around for a poodle
and a corvette
and my impression
of my best Angie Dickinson
but now I’ve got to worry
‘cause boy you still look pretty
when you’re putting the damage on

I’m trying not to move
it’s just your ghost
passing through
I said I’m trying not to move
it’s just your ghost passing through
it’s just your ghost
passing through
and now I’m quite sure
there’s a light in your platoon
I never seen a light move
like yours
can do to me
so now I’m wishing
for my best impression
of my best Angie Dickinson
but now I’ve got to worry
‘cause boy you still look pretty
to me
but I’ve got a place to go
I’ve got a ticket to your late show
and I’m worrying cause even still
you sure are pretty
when you’re putting the damage on
yes
when you’re putting the damage on
you’re just so pretty
when you’re putting the damage on"

i was 16 years old when i first heard this song. i thought, yeah, tori, you and me. we're so deep. i get it. let them have eddie vedder. we have pain and wrath and fire that they'll never even see. at that time the only relationships i'd ever had were, in this order, alexandra thompson (lasted: one month) and ginger skaggs (lasted: also one month). now, somehow, it's nine years later, and this is the song to which i always seem to return at times like this. i've avoided listening to it again; avoided the finality it inevitably makes me begin to face. last night, three days after the watershed, i finally listened.