Post by elizabeth marie dean on Jul 23, 2011 23:36:03 GMT -5
elizabeth marie dean
21, visitor, musician, out spoken, party girl
[/size]tweets
misslizz @ashwinters i got a couple new songs, meet me at my place in three hours. don't be late.
misslizz @anonymous damn, you sure got your info messed up bitch. i don't sleep with everyone, i have my standards.
misslizz i need a drink. anyone wanna come over for a drink?
misslizz reporters are stupid, they don't care about the music but the sex. they should interview a porn star if they want to talk about that.
misslizz sometimes i regret dropping out of high school...texts
- hey. i have a hangover & when i was drunk i called your number. the problem is, i have 7 contacts named 'asshole' so which one are you?
- taylor swift annoys the fuck out of me. don't compare me to her. my songs are not from my diary, if they were then it'd be about fucking you and how small your dick is.
-and this is why you're my best friend. i'll come over soon. what do you want me to bring, some drinks?
- DONT YOU DARE TALK TO ME LIKE THAT BITCH. NO, I AM NOT PMSING.about the songs
waking up next to you well, this song isn't about sex and about my party lifestyle and one night stands as most critics think it is. if they actually listened to the song then they would understand that it's about finding that person that you're meant to be with and falling in love with him all over again. i know that i sing about things and experiences that i know really well, but waking up next to you is an exception. i don't believe in love and commitment and all that shit, but everyone else does. and so i wrote this when i was watching tu me manques, je t'aime, which is an okay movie. i thought it'd be dumb as fuck cause it's a romance, but it's alright.
simple lies now this song is more interesting, it's for a couple of dicks and chicks. oh, they spread some interesting rumors about me. so let me get this straight- i was never pregnant. i actually can't get pregnant, it's in my genes. i was also never a prostitute and i never had nude photoshoots to get money- i was never that desperate. and no, i did not star in a porn movie. but yes, i admit, i was raped when i was younger and i had depression for a while. and i did go to rehab. i don't know how the fuck they found this out about me, but i hate them for selling stupid rumors and stories to the press. and the press who actually were desperate enough to believe that shit.
devil's dance this is perhaps the angriest, most hurt, and most bitter song that i've ever written. this is what i wrote about a guy who i actually really cared about. i don't think i loved him, but i had this huge crush on him and we actually dated for a couple of months. yeah, that guy's daniel anderson. it's interesting, because i never thought of him as a one-night stand and i never used him for publicity. i actually really cared about him but he didn't. he broke up with me, no i broke up with him. he was with me when we were recording a couple songs, but when i was talking to the band and stuff i saw him all over... the bassist; my best friend. excuse me, the former bassist and my former best friend. a bitch fight insured between all three of us, and it ended up with me breaking up with daniel and the band's break up for a few months. raina, the bassist, i don't know what happened to her, but it's rumored that she's in another band. and daniel, well, i'm sure he's still an ass.new haven
i was born here, and then i went to hollywood to make a name out of myself. once i established a band and an album, i decided to come back for a while. for a break from reality. actually, our manager decided it was time for me to take a break from hollywood. i guess he was pretty pissed at how many bar fights i was in and how many stories were up about me sleeping around. well, i can't help it. it's not my fault that people like writing about me. well, i hate this town and the people here. so stuck up and obsessed in themselves. that's why i wanted to get away from here, and no, i don't want to fucking see my adoptive family. they're self centered and obsessed with money. i don't even have any friends here, why did they send me here? they could've sent me to paris, at least then i'd be having a good time.lyrics
JUST GO RUN FAR FAR AWAY, RUN FAR AWAY FROM ME
YOU CAN'T BE HERE, OR THERE, OR ANYWHERE CLOSE TO ME
I'M ONLY GONNA BREAK YOU, BREAK YOU JUST LIKE ME
SO JUST GO RUN FAR FAR AWAY, RUN FAR AWAY FROM ME
this was one of the songs that i wrote that's currently unreleased. it's acoustic too, most of the songs that i wrote are still in it's acoustic state. maybe the band's gonna use it on the next album. i don't know. this is a song that i wrote for this guy who fell for me. hard. he was one of my best friends, and no, he's not in the band. we met when we were in high school, and we were best friends and we both crushed on each other a little, but we dated. we just didn't want to ruin our friendship. yes, i know that i'm known for being the whore and the party girl who goes around having one night stands and having a new boy toy every other day... but this guy really meant the world to me. i guess you could say i loved, but i didn't want to bring him into the publicity and i didn't want to break him. the fact that i broke off all connection with him probably made us both die on the inside a little bit but i swear, that's what was the best for both of us. if he was in the public light, it wouldn't be good for him. he's a genuinely sweet, caring boy, i didn't want him to be tainted like i am. being a musician, in a band, was the best thing that happened to me. and the worst. it changed me, a lot. and i didn't want the industry to change him, not at all. maybe in a couple years, i'll try to find him. see him with his girlfriend who's nicer, sweeter, prettier than i am, and say how happy i am for them. because i will be. i'll be happy, cause he finally loved and got loved in return. yes, behind every whore is a boy who made her that way. yes, he's the boy that made me like this- but it was mainly my fault. so, if you're listening, i'm sorry. i'm so so sorry.LET ME GO-GO GREET THE DEVIL WITH A SMILE
GOT MY HANDS IN MY POCKETS AND MY HEART ON THE LINE
LET ME GO-GO TO THE DEVIL WITH A SMILE
YOU LEFT ME BROKEN AND NO, NO, I'M NOT FINE.
and this little angry beauty right here is for the people who raised me up. no, they're not my real parents. i actually don't even know who my real mother and father are and i could hardly care less. my adoptive parents told me that i have my mother's look and my father's personality, and i hate the fact that they keep reminding me that my fucking “parents” left me alone to a pitiful family who doesn't know what to do with me. i was the youngest of the bunch that they adopted, and the least favorite. mostly because i didn't want to follow with the “tradition” of going to college and becoming a lawyer. i mean, ew, lawyers. they're the reason why america's so screwed up today. yeah, i hated them. i hated all of them. they all thought they were all so special and snobby and that they knew everything in the whole damn world. well, they didn't. they always went around bragging to their friends about how their little “bethy” adored school and how i had a perfect 4.0 and everything. bull. shit. i hated being called “beth” and “eliza” but they insisted saying that it was more sweeter and fucking professional than liz. ew, beth and eliza. they're such stupid baby girl names. i left when i was sixteen, i got out of that hellhole and went to the streets. i worked as a prostitute for a couple of weeks, and i actually thought about going back. when i went back to the house where i was raised, when they looked at me they pretended like i was nothing. no one. i wasn't anyone that they knew, and what the fuck was i doing on their pretty lawn of the american dream house? whatever. a stranger taught me how to play guitar. i played guitar from that day on, writing songs and singing in the bars. it helped me survive, and it landed me where i am here today. after my name first appeared along with the band, they tried calling me again. they were in trouble. the law firm that they worked at died, they wanted me to come “home”. yeah, fucking “home”. all they wanted was my money. and you know what “family”? you can have my money... when you're dead.YOU SAID YOU KNEW HOW TO FIX-FIX ME UP
RIPPED THE STITCHES OUT OF MY HEART AND PUT THE KNIFE IN MY BACK
YOU SAID YOU KNEW HOW TO FIX-FIX ME UP
PULLED THE PLUG AS YOU LEFT, YOU GAVE ME A HEART-HEART ATTACK
i'm anything but sweet and nice. i don't believe in love anymore. i actually don't think i even have friends. only my bandmates and my party crew. oh, and my fuck buddies. well, my fuck buddies are pretty much anyone hot that i see in the club. it's not even that hard. i mean, what guy would resist a blow job or sex? oh right. this song. well, it actually doesn't have a hidden meaning or anything. nothing special in my life happened for me to write this song. i guess that day i was just upset and drunk. i was 17, this was before i came into the band, and i just sang this. no prior planning or anything, i just strummed a couple of chords and this song came right out of me. it was more of a sad song, a sad, angry filled song. it was slower and quieter, but everyone in the bar loved it that night. that was the night that i got asked to come into the company. at first i tried making it as a solo artist, it didn't work so well. and then pace car on death started and i forgot all about the old songs that i've written and stuff. i'm just a guitarist now, i don't sing. not anymore. apparently my voice isn't right. yeah. whatevs... oh wait, actually. i do dedicate this song to someone. that miss who came over to me one night and then slapped me. i mean who just goes up to a random chick and slaps them? that girl was crazy, fucking out of her mind. she yelled some bull at me about how i stole her boyfriend from her... um, excuse me? i don't date. i just fuck around. she cried about how i fucked him once every night at his place and got pregnant and stole him from her. it got big on the press. i don't fuck the same guy that many times. maybe five times, but five's the max. i move on faster than you can say 'pregnant bitch'. there is also no way that i got pregnant, apparently i can't get pregnant because it's in my genetic make up. thank you bitch who gave birth to me, you gave me at least a couple good things- the fact i can't get pregnant, and that guys actually like my body. oh right, that chick? if you're reading or listening to this. thanks. thanks a lot for starting those 'boyfriend stealing, pregnant guitarist' rumors and stuff that are all over the tabloids. oh, and no, i don't think i know your boyfriend, i saw a picture of him and he's fucking ugly. whores have their standards too, obviously you don't.
Liz was feeling the affects of the alcohol on her, as she loosened up gradually. She looked back to the bartender, running her fingers through her long blonde hair and smiled, showing her white teeth to the boy. He smiled back at her, forgiving her for snapping at him earlier. They started talking and she learned that he was a college dropout, she explained that she was thinking of dropping out and they continued to talk about school and other lame things like that. She felt like things were going to slow, but she didn't want to rush things. Besides, when the full effects of alcohol would kick in, things were going to be moving fast and hot anyways. They talked for a few minutes, flirted a bit more, and then people started sitting down near her. He threw her a sorry smile as he walked over to ask what each one of them liked. As soon as he left, she drank the remainder of her drink and rubbed her eyes.
A redhead plopped down next to her, obviously mildly drunk, as she giggled and slurred, asking for a drink of water and a shot. The girl kept giggling, looking around the club, and much to Liz's attention- wouldn't shut her mouth or think of sobering up to stop giggling. The sound of her giggle was rather annoying, or maybe it was annoying because she was drunk. Or maybe it was annoying because Liz was drunk. Either way, it was annoying. She looked back at the bartender, and opened her mouth. Would you give me another shot? I kinda need to get my mind off of somethings right now. He gave her the shot and started sympathizing with her, which both drove her more off the edge and turned her off. She hated the types of people who thought sympathy would make someone feel better when they didn't even know anything. Liz thought better than to snap some interesting words back at the boy, but she still gave him a look that told him to shut up. He immediately shut his mouth, and looked at her with a mixture of interest and confusion.
Two shots later, she could safely say that she was drunk- but not drunk enough. The boy who had pissed her off, kept giving her drinks but tried convincing her to stop drinking. Liz started laughing, giving him a look that he didn't know what he was doing. Oh, boy. You know that's not how it's supposed to work. If you're trying to convince a girl to stop drinking, you're not supposed to be giving her more drinks. Silly, silly boy. You still have a lot to learn. Surprisingly, her words were only a bit slurred. She grinned at him, taking another swing before turning to the redhead who was obviously too happy and too peppy and too... well, you know, annoying. Of course, there could be other synonyms for annoying that Liz would much rather use. But she wasn't in her right mind, actually, she was- but her right mind is what people called her wrong mind, or the drunk mind.
Liz mocked the girl's hysterical giggles, as she leaned against the table, putting her head on a propped up arm. She continued it a few times, letting people stare at her around them with annoyed looks. Of course, none of them said anything to her, because they were too polite. The blonde turned her eyes to the redhead's and gave a tiny little smirk. Not so cute and fun when you're not the one doing it, sweetie? So, Miss Redhead, if you would please do me a favor, and shut your damn mouth that'd be great. Lovely for the rest of us here who are trying to talk or drink. Liz wasn't looking for an altercation or a bar fight, she just wanted the stupid cheerleader redhead girl to shut her mouth and stifle her giggles. If the other girl was drunk enough, she probably would've forced a napkin or something into her mouth. The junior turned back to her shots, had another drink and turned back to the bartender, wanting to know his name so she wouldn't have to think of him as 'the guy who gets me drinks who I'm probably gonna end up sleeping with because I'm too lazy and too drunk to get up and pursue another man' or 'the bartender' in her head.
