BECAUSE there is safety in derision
I talked about an apparition,
I took no trouble to convince,
Or seem plausible to a man of sense.
Distrustful of thar popular eye
Whether it be bold or sly.
Fifteen apparitions have I seen;
The worst a coat upon a coat-hanger.

I have found nothing half so good
As my long-planned half solitude,
Where I can sit up half the night
With some friend that has the wit
Not to allow his looks to tell
When I am unintelligible.
Fifteen apparitions have I seen;
The worst a coat upon a coat-hanger.

When a man grows old his joy
Grows more deep day after day,
His empty heart is full at length,
But he has need of all that strength
Because of the increasing Night
That opens her mystery and fright.
Fifteen apparitions have I seen;
The worst a coat upon a coat-hanger.

You are the gun to my head
The water underneath my feet
The chill in my bones
The part of my mind that wanders
To deep and desolate ruins
That scare the **** out of me.
You have used me
Trashed me
Destroyed me.
I call myself compassionate
And yet
Sometimes, I wish you would hurt too.

Uh Oh
I use quite frequently

Uh Oh
Words made just for me

I use them everyday
In all of my mistakes

Uh Oh
Proudly leads the way

Uh?
If you have no idea

Oh?
When your questioning

Whether put together
Or whether pulled apart

Uh Oh
Shows the moment where you are

Take in a few more gulps
swallowing your pride
the only time this world makes any sense
is when the room is spinning
poor little baby bird
fell out of the nest all too soon
the ground is hard with tall grass
where predators lurk
listen up, kid
you need to learn to aim true
find ways to smile through pain
and yeah, it's okay to cry
just leave the door to your heart open a crack
do not forget to stand tall
the night sky is resting in your palms
each star a cosmic reflection
of every sleep laden dream
you've been smoking up all of my punchlines
that you didn't get
******* for the temptation
of somebody kind enough
to maybe love you for you
listen, little clubber
before this long winding road grows open
you need to make friends
with the man trapped in the mirror

I should be rotting 6 feet under the ground.
I should be growing into flowers.
I should be dead rather than waiting to die.

My hands on her skin,
Like a child I remember,
Soft sands at the beach.