she'd learnt to keep a shallow mind
so people didn't have to swim
and it led them all to think they knew
the thoughts she held within
but below the wading pool she made
was a world left unexplored
an ocean of her feelings
hidden under the pools floor
the waters turned to blackness
where not even she had dared to go
stretching from behind her eyes
to the ends of all her toes
she didn't want to dive right down
and find what lay hidden there
because she knew with all deep water
came a deadly lack of air
but she didn't foresee the lonely boy
who found a crack in her cement
broke free of her wading pool
and into the darkness he went
he told her not to fear her thoughts
as he took her by the hand
and swam with her to places
that their lungs could not withstand
in their newfound love they both forgot
the importance of their breath
and interwoven in the world they found
they both drowned in its depths

Let's shut up a second and just think for a minute,
This world could be ours if we seize the day and get with it,
But I'm feeling weak, trying to inspire some others,
And open up more doors, like The Shire is troubled.
Relationships are growing years older, guess the decks age,
There doesn't have to be an end, there is always a next page,
I want people saying tenderly, "These written words connect with me,
I'll have respect for he who penned it deep for centuries."

Emotion can overtake and devotion can motivate,
We all want to know our fate until approaching the Holy gates,
Watching affection fade can lead to pretty lonely days
Not knowing our seconds are being thrown away, and so we wait.

Sensation can blind us, but phrases can guide us,
The cadence may fade but the sayings are timeless,
Some 'bravest' are spineless, some 'brainless' are brightest,
The making's expensive but the painting is priceless,

Passion enhances through passionate glances,
Life is controlling, we're just practising aren't we?

If dust, it's just industrialisation,
In dust, it's injust making real eyes ache and,
Only those real eyes have the power to realise,
The truths that we all know are subjective, and real lies.

Love is the first time you sleep with a face full of hair and don't care,
you're just grateful she's there.
It's all the emotion you're able to bear, so beware;
nobody said it was graceful or fair.

Love is unprepared to be rushed but a touch is barely enough,
and since you don't dare to give up, there is the rub.
She'll put her hair in a bun and rip the air from your lungs,
And you can feel your blood pumping like the scariest drum.

Love is it all, it's the bricks and the wall,
it's the stick and the ball, the listen and call,
The dismissal of any and all critical thought, but what is it overall?
it's the bridge metaphor and the physical fall.

Love is when you travel to the farthest of lands over mountains, marshes and sands.
It's artistry, grand, feeling your hearts swelling as large as they can,
hearing your arteries bang,
and being there to hold the cane inside the palm of her hand.

Love is transcending genders and age, to the 'benders' and 'gays',
finding an effortless way through the prejudiced plague.
Ask any men, they will say that it led them astray,
from the gentlest phrase to the mentalist, caged,

Love is the first time you sleep with a face full of hair and don't care,
you're just grateful he's there,
It's all the emotion you're able to bear, so beware.

Nobody said it was graceful or fair.