I may be soft in your palm, But I'll soon grow hungry for a fight, and I will not let you win. My pretty mouth will frame the phrases that will dispr… - Fiona Apple

The early cars
Already are
Drawing deep breaths past my door.
And last night's phrases,
Sick with lack of basis,
Are still writhing on my floor. And it doesn't seem fair
That your wicked words should work
In holding me down.
No, it doesn't seem right
To take information
Given at close range
For the gag
And the bind
And the ammunition round.

Once my lover, now my friend;
What a cruel thing to pretend.
What a cunning way to condescend;
Once my lover, and now my friend. Oh, you creep up like the clouds
And you set my soul at ease.
Then you let your love abound,
And you bring me to my knees.

I really don't think anything I do is a mistake. It could be if I didn't learn from it.