Keep my headlines off your paper
You don’t want that story told
In your crowdsourced information
You’re the biggest hole
Keep your hands off of my shoulders
I’m the cold beer in your hell
There’s no room for empty vases
Or flowers on the moon
So keep on hoping I disappear
From such vantage I hold dear
Laying traps and quiet kisses
That you can’t feel or hear
Until I’m nice and near