Act I

Who are you, my love,
with the stories you tell,
the acts you put on
for the lies that you sell

You tell me he hurts you,
“He rapes me,” you say
Truth or not, I know not
But it’s for more than security you stay

Your silken flesh unblemished
Perhaps bruises know where to hide
for your dark eyes hold pain
you’re to proud to confide

Still, it’s hard to believe you
after watching you work;
Selling lines to the phone
as you unfasten my skirt

“I’m just out for coffee,”
you deceive the receiver
Does he know the sound of lying,
or is he your Believer?

I won’t question your stories,
trading disbelief for fistfuls of black hair
Hold you tight while you lie
Promise, please, not to break our stare

It’s not as if I don’t understand
Why you act as you do
You just “give ‘em what they want”
And what we want is you

It’s enough just to want you,
slick skin on skin is my need
To hear you die the little death
is what satisfies my greed

No, the stories are not for me
you know I need no excuse
they’re not for him, either
they’re for your own abuse

I can be an actress, too
If that is what you need tonight
we’ll play heroine and damsel
until dawn’s first light

Who are we, my love
with the stories we tell
the act we put on
for the lies that you sell