I was staring at the sky...

... looking for a star,
to pray on or wish on,
or something like that.

I was having a sweet fix,
on a day-dream of a boy,
whose reality I knew,
was as hopless that could be had.

And then the dove of hope,
began its downward slope,
and I believed for a moment that,
the chances were,
approaching to be glad.

And then as it came down here,
so did a weary tear.
I thought it was a bird,
but it was just a paper bag.

Hunger hurts,
but I want him,
so bad I would kill,
but I know I'm a mess he don't wanna clean up.

I gotta fold,
'cause these hands are too
shaky to hold.

Hunger hurts,
but starving works,
when it costs...
... too much to love.

I went crazy again today,
looking for a strand to climb,
looking for,
a little hope.

Baby said he couldn't stay,
wouldn't put his lips to mine,
a fail to kiss is a fail to cope.

I said, "Honey I don't feel so good,
don't feel justified.
Come on put a little love here in my void."

He said, "It's all in your head."
I said, "So is everything,"
but he didn't get it.

I thought he was a man
but he was just a little boy.

Hunger hurts,
and I want him,
so bad I would kill,
but I know I'm a mess he don't wanna clean up.

I gotta fold
'cause these hands are too
shaky to hold.

Hunger hurts,
but starving works,
when it costs...
... too much to love.

--Fiona Apple