First Class Ghost
Track 8 of Forbidden in Furs
[ Lyrics ]
I’m not a girl, I’m a habit. I’m not a girl, I’m a habit. Same suite, same view, same bottle on ice, he texts ‘I miss you’ by 10:03. I know the drill — unzip, undress, no small talk, just your hands on my neck. You taste like bourbon and last night’s sin, I kiss you back like it means something within. But the thrill’s gone quiet, like a phone on mute, I’m not his fire — I’m the backup route. Used to feel like a vice you couldn’t quit, now I’m just the name you won’t admit. You don’t dream of me, you don’t call the next day — I’m the pulse in your wrist when the real world fades. I’m not a girl, I’m a habit. I’m not a muse, just a shadow in satin. I’m not a girl, I’m a habit. No ring, no name, just your hands in my hair — I’m the thing you crave when you’re drowning in care. Checked in yesterday, left my bag by the door, he didn’t ask what I wore. Saw the driver glance, tried not to stare — I’m the same girl from June, July, last December. You said I was different, your only spark, then flew home Sunday — back to your ‘dark’. Your wife’s in Nantucket, I’m in St. Barts, playing the part with a hollow heart. No, I’m not mad, I’m just starting to see: I’m not your escape — I’m your E-Z Pass fee. A pit stop, a snack, a late-night scroll — I’m not love, I’m control. I’m not a girl, I’m a habit. I’m not a muse, just a shadow in satin. I’m not a girl, I’m a habit. No ring, no claim, just your thumb on my waist — I’m the lie you repeat when the truth’s too late. Look at the Birkin by the bed — unopened. Like me, it’s expensive, but barely used, frozen. You collect art, you collect views, and me? I’m the one you don’t choose. I’m not broken… I’m just background noise. I’m not a girl, I’m a habit. I’m not a muse, just a shadow in satin. I’m not a girl, I’m a habit. No fire, no fear, just déjà vu in first class. I was yours — now I’m just ashes. I’m not a girl… I’m not a girl… …a habit.