the song of the soul
is different from the voice that comes out
sang from the true self
only a few others can pick up
a tune only one, or none at all,
might be able to understand
it plays for as long as a lifetime
there's only one tune
your tune
until other tunes are learned

That time that it
rained,
There was suddenly a
soothing of the pain
From your breathless,
ever struggling chest,

Washed, cleared away
by this brief, miraculous event,
By the mere thought of
the heavens crying in your stead.

We,*

broken objects,

Don't like to stick to unbroken ones.

Because, we don't like to feel broken.

And the closer we get to you, to your part of the world that's no longer ours,

The more broken we feel, and the more broken we become.

But if you drag me back into that world yourself, and never let go of my hand, and demand I stay by your side,

I'd probably remain broken for the rest of my life.

In the breeze, you are there,

Atop a tree as I sit, I feel you caress my hair,

In the sunset, you show yourself;

You're the crow flapping its wings,

And every flap takes you high—

Farther and farther away from me.

You're the wave
That shattered me,
I'm the rock
That stood up to you;
It's been centuries—
I've been steadfast,
You've been patient;
What more proof is needed—
We're perfectly matched

All I do all night long
Is play our song;
Lyrical,
Musical—
I sing to you:
Here's where you belong

What I have is a mechanical heart made up of gears;
it pumps up oil and artificial heartbeats

It was you who gave it life—
It was you who made me alive—

Even though it's already yours,
I just want you to know,
You're the only one it's beating for.