Pour out the tears
From battered eyes
Into a rusted tin cup
Then forget about me
Because love betrayed
As it always seems to do
Leaving a grieving heart
In mourning, silently beating

Living in a different era would be marvelous.  
But get this,
They had the same problems that we are all facing today.
Problems that baffle your mind.
"Why on earth are they still debating over it?"

Living in a different era would be fabulous, wouldn't it?
But would you still have the same privileges accessed today?
Maybe some of you but not all.

Living in a differnt era......
if it were possible, would you go back?
Back to the days were life was as simple as black and white.

Spring is in bloom
While I smile through gloom
The flowers are here and they're bright
I look and I cheer
As this warmth is so dear
Maybe now the gloom will take flight

When body meets ink
And it stains the skin  
When the reward outweighs pain
So it becomes vague
When it's no longer just a needle
It's use as a tool to covey her body a canvas
She has become a stencil
Her skin a piece of paper
The needle a ink pen
And even if you don't understand
The meaning is more then what's on her skin  
It seep into her veins
And now her heart pumps it
She's ok that it tainted her blood  
This ink has become her
A walking collage
But unless you are her
You won't understand her
To her this is more then just a hobby  or sport
It's her life
Tattoos is her art

It was unwinding, like a light on a candle
Fighting to keep the flame burning when
The wick had run out.

Can you outrun life, death, never
Tried till now. But I walked, It was
A flickering existence, we had jumped
The flame once too often and now it
Was our time to be blown out.

"Hold my hand"
"Please hold me tight"

I didn't know these men, woman on
There knees as touching the earth helped,
Tears, screaming at the wind, its ending
They'd scream, but I was in the distance
Leaving those to their maddening self chatter.

It was an amazing sight, the end was bright
Like dominos building fell,
"Paper in the wind was everything else"
Cinders fell as parched winds blew, I had ran,
Then walked. my last view of the world
Was a billboard?
"THE END IS PAST ITS SELL BY DATE"
I laughed as my existence turned to **dust.

It hurts when we hold hands
I can feel the coldness in your stem
It's the source of your emotionless pattern
Your leafs pulled from past handlers
Your thorns ***** me like the ***** you called me
Hoping I'll let go
But I only tighten my grip
Even if I have to endure the pain
Afraid of losing your scent
The sweet smell of precious nectar  
I've memorized it
The feel of your petals
The beauty in your color
I douse you in love to keep you alive
I want to fuel you like the sun
I want to be the reason you bloom in spring
But the more I invest, the quicker you wilt
You dying in my hands