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letra de rosaline - the4realmcg

rosaline
rose of lies
no th-rn in sight
grown on no vine
manufactured at a plastic plant
as a plastic plant…
cheapest of valentines
rosaline, not even a real rose i find

somebody get me an eyechart because it was “luv” at worst sight?
nothin’ looked right, saw her living up that party-girl life
trying to rush center stage, not a moth to a flame
but a b-tterfly to the spotlight that illuminates her on-sight
bright pink knots, dark red locks
green eyes like emerald ring-pop tops
which shine when she divines me in sight
that flirtatious finger-tip folds in half, invites me inside
just before she slides right out the back-door
blows a goodbye kiss like a fever dream meadow nymph
in the evergreen mystery of the serene meadow mist
just to run into her right after, how serendipitous!
then again a second, third, fourth times
over by the “watch where you walk” sign
not understanding this, square inch i stand in
is just the right sp-ce
for me to be in the wrong place at the wrong time!

rosa-rosa-rosa-rosaline
plastic rose of mine
you know what i know but must pretend i don’t
and yet don’t get love means we ain’t friends instead
rosaline, you know you’re type
wish i’d known alike, wish you spoke your mind
instead you stole my time with your romance mirage
i should’ve read the signs and recognized

she gave me the highest dosage of… no, not a love potion
just placebo oxytocin, but chose not to ghost him
instead friendzone him. go figure, at dinner at her pad
with a bit of moonlight to get the mood right
put her hand to mine and straight up went and said
“you’re like the brother i never had!” egads!
plays with feelings he has like a ball of string
to a most feminine feline, a neon pink cat
who unravels a drawstring and pulls the thing back
to make a dancing marrionette out of the cardiac
to which the thing’s attached!
that i jerk to-and-fro
and she yanks back and forth
just call this rap a match of heartstring tug-of-war!

now i’m rappin’ blues… technically the saddest hue
and of it got one long hard look
oldest tune in the american songbook
put my cell on vibrate then my smartphone shook
just before i’m out the door
read her text: “just broke up with the bf
and i don’t think we should be friends anymore..”
but i mastered the art-form of love’s science
hypothesis is truth-proof, what her type is
the world’s biggest tease, that terms epitome
the ego-feedin’ eros facsimile
finally reclaim a lost pair of testes
when, with a smile, i text her back
“frankly my dear, i don’t give a d-mn
semi-colon right parenthesis”

- the4realmcg

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