trevor-jacksonWhisper

American
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Wrapping PaperWrappingPaper / If you look past my words / Read it as a metaphor
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The Yellow Book of RiddlesMy tears run down like razorblades. / Acoustic guitars ringing in my ears. / Its just so hard for me to accept the fact,
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Nice Guys Finish LastMy mind is still racing / She has already won / My heart has yet to shoot
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UntitledAs time marches on / And the pain subsides / It is not replaced with happiness
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FrozenStaring at the ceiling / For far too long / Stumbling over the thought
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InmatesI let her move in / Knowing where she'd been / It didn't scare me
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Lost the meaningI fell in love with her / All my eggs in one basket / She took it all with her
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UntitledThe fire within my soul that burns for you is slowly diminishing to nothing but embers. Every night I watch as the radiant light glows dimmer and dimmer. Eventually it will be consumed by the void within my being. Then perhaps I will finally be free.
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The ShadowmarkOne pill, two pill, twenty four. / Pretty soon I'll be on the floor. / Don't bother trying to open the door.
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Made of WaxThe drugs and the music / Do little to hide / That when you look in my eyes
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385
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