Have you ever wondered
           If there is something waiting for you?

Actually, I've been afraid
           That there might be nothing at all.

Between goals and dreams,
Rests a life that was.
Among the stars and sky,
Rests a life that was.
Underneath the tears and pain,
Rests a life that was.
With hope and fire,
Rests the life that is.

Between goals and dreams,
Rests a life that was.
Among the stars and sky,
Rests a life that was.
Underneath the tears and pain,
Rests a life that was.
With hope and fire,
Rests the life that is.

And I'll find the will within my aching bones
To fulfil the want of a hopeful soul

You talk
Of tearing down these walls.
                I laugh
As if you'd be able to scale them.

Beneath lace and love bites
Hides the scars of the night.

Within the city of dreams,
Her heart beats to the rhythm of a nightmare.

Words could not contain her,
Nor art could retain her,
For she held the universe within her,
And she knew it to be true.

Want is cheap,
I believe I need you.

Adorn myself with exuberant strength,
Not a moment of weakness.
Conquer all that lies ahead,
Not a moment to call my own.
Dream with my eyes wide open,
Sleep is for when I die.

For I love the raw nature of your soul,
And I will unearth all the secrets it claims to hold.

To provoke you,
To adore you.
To curse you,
To worship you.
To ease you,
To tease you
But never will I write to please you.

Peculiar air to fill my lungs
While the tales of the ancient fill my ears
A foreign taste to select on my buds,
An unknown land, is what my feet yearn.
For my eyes to see what my mind has dreamed,
And my heart to fall madly in love with a world unexplored.
In every new place, in every unfamiliar face,
In every packed suitcase,
My soul is home.

To be jealous of paper
It is maddening, yet true.
Watching you through silent eyes
Your ink stained hands
Making strokes in a panic haste
Etching jagged lines, in silent leisure
Timed uncertainty, passionate intensity
My eyes follow your moments in pure silence
Your hands create passion, the artist is art
And I stand there, jealous and helpless
For among the drawn paper
Lies a piece of my heart

A clearing glance through hooded eyes
Your stained hands, steady.
A nervous step by wobbling feet,
Your quiet attention, unwavering.
A choked word whispered in a hush sound,
Your stoic eyes, unflinching.
And as I turn to leave,
Your fleating smiles emerges,  
Send my mind into a frenzy, my feet into speed,
I know that smile, love
It will be the destruction of me.

Tell me little one
of the stories on your tongue,
Where the waning moon shines,
brighter than the morning sun.
And the fierce fire breathing dragon,
a lullaby softly hums.

Tell me little one
of the stories in your heart,
Where the glorified hero
was no more than a fool.
And the gentlest being
was an old weathered ghoul.

Tell me little one
of the stories in your soul
Where the conquering princess,
was far from distress
And of the villain who
was graced with righteousness.

For your walls too, have stories
but pay no head their lies.
Open wide, little one
And see the world with your own two eyes.

Bury my nose in the crevice of your skin
Deep breaths, taking you in.

Wandering hands start a fire within,
Fleeting kisses upon your chin.

Drawing you close, taking you in,
I trace our stories across your skin.