El Cid

What you don’t find in your hand
You won’t find in your pocket
Hid under your bed
Where you hid all you could from them
The blood of El Cid
So full of lies hid under your dress
You made enough smoke to be poor
Till they found you, the underfed kid
And I wanted to kiss you
I wanted to tell you
I could fix you
But I’d have been lying to myself
You pulled out a book of your pictures
In the grass and you begged me
You’d tell me to listen
I weathered the talk
But I was tired of the script
And out of your mouth came little lost dogs
And everyone scrambled
The weight of their coats and the boots
And they scared you all off
But they scared you all off
And I wanted to kiss you
I wanted to tell you
I could fix you
But I’d have been lying to myself