Is there no one there?
Is there no one to help me?
I keep screaming unfair
But I’m drowned by monotony
I can't help but wonder
Why did you have to bother?
You won't be happy
Till I’m six feet under
You say its love at first sight
I’d say its first degree
Because every single night
You love to break me
We’ve been going strong
But lately its been getting hard
And I wonder how long
Before it’s all too scarred
I can't make up my mind
Keep you for security
Or go out and see what I can find
You tell me it’s my maturity
But I think it’s your mood
You want it to last
But it’s so hard to conclude
That you and I are past...

Have you ever found yourself in a dilemma?
Found yourself between two things.
On the one side, you have security,
And on the other chance.
You like to gamble, and roll your dice.
But is it worth the price?
Can you juggle both, and not get caught?
Or do you stick with what you've got,
And regret never taking that one chance,
That one chance to fly....

I can't take it when you say goodbye
I can't take it when you make me cry
I can't stand it when you act so sly
I hate it when you ask me why
Don’t you know that you’re the one?
You are my warmth, my only sun
I can't believe you’re so much fun
Because of everything that has been done
The way you make me feel inside
Is like a bird flying in the sky
You’re like a drug that gets me high
But this drug won't let me die
The pressure I feel, is measured in tons
Every time I see you come,
Something tells me to run
But when I try, I only get spun
This time its for real
Everything I say, I feel
I won’t try to hide or conceal
Cause when I’m with you, it’s all surreal

Is it thy will thy image should keep open
My heavy eyelids to the weary night?
Dost thou desire my slumbers should be broken
While shadows like to thee do mock my sight?
Is it thy spirit that thou send’st from thee
So far from home into my deeds to pry,
To find out shames and idle hours in me,
The scope and tenure of thy jealousy?
O, no, thy love, though much, is not so great;
It is my love that keeps mine eye awake,
Mine own true love that doth my rest defeat,
To play the watchman ever for thy sake.
    For thee watch I whilst thou dost wake elsewhere,
    From me far off, with others all too near.

As an unperfect actor on the stage
Who with his fear is put beside his part,
Or some fierce thing replete with too much rage,
Whose strength’s abundance weakens his own heart,
So I, for fear of trust, forget to say
The perfect ceremony of love’s rite,
And in mine own love’s strength seem to decay,
O’ercharged with burden of mine own love’s might.
O, let my books be then the eloquence
And dumb presagers of my speaking breast,
Who plead for love, and look for recompense
More than that tongue that more hath more expressed.
    O, learn to read what silent love hath writ,
    To hear with eyes belongs to love’s fine wit.

How can my Muse want subject to invent
While thou dost breathe, that pour’st into my verse
Thine own sweet argument, too excellent
For every ****** paper to rehearse?
O, give thyself the thanks, if aught in me
Worthy perusal stand against thy sight,
For who’s so dumb that cannot write to thee,
When thou thyself dost give invention light?
Be thou the tenth Muse, ten times more in worth
Than those old nine which rhymers invocate;
And he that calls on thee, let him bring forth
Eternal numbers to outlive long date.
    If my slight Muse do please these curious days,
    The pain be mine, but thine shall be the praise.

My love is as a fever, longing still
For that which longer nurseth the disease,
Feeding on that which doth preserve the ill,
Th’ uncertain sickly appetite to please.
My reason, the physician to my love,
Angry that his prescriptions are not kept,
Hath left me, and I desperate now approve
Desire is death, which physic did except.
Past cure I am, now reason is past care,
And frantic-mad with evermore unrest;
My thoughts and my discourse as mad men’s are,
At random from the truth vainly expressed.
    For I have sworn thee fair, and thought thee bright,
    Who art as black as hell, as dark as night.

it is at moments after i have dreamed
of the rare entertainment of your eyes,
when(being fool to fancy)i have deemed

with your peculiar mouth my heart made wise;
at moments when the glassy darkness holds

the genuine apparition of your smile
(it was through tears always)and silence moulds
such strangeness as was mine a little while;

moments when my once more illustrious arms
are filled with fascination, when my breast
wears the intolerant brightness of your charms:

one pierced moment whiter than the rest

—turning from the tremendous lie of sleep
i watch the roses of the day grow deep.