You like pineapple, you told me when we were eleven
The girl you dated last thought you liked watermelon
But I know you better, I've known you since we were four
But I'm not the girl you pretended to like melons for

Love is wild
True love don't mean it'll survive
You can steal a million hearts with eyes
And say good bye every time
Its no crime
To lend a smile for a night
And be gone with the light

Why do poets write in silence?
And garner words below their eyelids,
In gutters of depths that are never quite clear,
Or rifles with full magazines in their holsters?
Are they deserving of a life so riddled,
And caramelized in rhyme and rhythm?
To charm the tales of tempests and oceans,
Cursed with the gift of describing its emotion.
That plagues the shores of their lonely islands
With no other option but to write in silence.

All of our flowers are matching
Where graceful mistakes don't happen
Swirl in the dresses we're wrapped in
Why aren't all the pretty girls happy?

How lovely it is to be lovely
How clever and cunning to have aquired such a charm
How absolutely lovely it is to hold such a power in your palm...

I'm in the wind about it
Blowing away
If I was to tell the story
I'd have nothing to say...

Why you choose to welcome it into your home
broken and wilted and hard as a stone
there'll be a place for you next to the throne
because you believed that your life's not your own
One day when we all drifted away
off to find love in a whole other place
You'll be welcomed through mercy and grace
into His home where He prepared your place
because when He knocked you opened your gates...