You wanna know why it's better to take the high road?
There's less trafic
You know why?
Because no one ever takes the high road

Whisper sweet lyrics into my ears as I crave the words falling from mouth to my ears based on old memories of infinite times. Just fall Into each line
with a soul beatin faster than a heart
And love of what you've created and now you can a sing a song

Why does it matter where two people come from
Or what paths they're on
Or what direction they're going
As long as the paths lead them back to each other?
Why does it matter if they're different people
With different lives
And different carrers
And jobs
As long as they both work hard for each other?
What makes them so different?
They have the same heart and soul
So why are they different?

Always is a promise
To never leave
To never run
To never go when it gets tough or painful
To fight through things side by side
To alway be there
To love forever and never stop being there for the person you love
Always is a promise.

Each book is Alice's rabbit hole
A long hole to another place
A place with hope, wonder, imagination, belief
Every new story gives me that
So why should I ever stop reading?

My soul is different then yours.
Mine is old, yours is young
Yours is light, mine is dark
Mine is a cage, yours is a latch
Yours is fire, mine is ice
Mine is a lightning flash, yours is a moonbeam
Yours is the Sun, mine is pluto
Mine is scars, yours is music
Yours is pages on a book, mine is a poker game
Mine is my own, your is not

Our lives are like constillations
Sure we're in space, nothingness in its fullest meaning
And we have no clue where we're going
But still we are something
We exsist as who we are
And that gives us a form
But what makes us a consteillation is something different.
We are a consteillation because fate has created imaginary lines that lead us on a path we follow till we meet another star.
And that star makes life better for being there
Because if they weren't there hidden among all the stars it just be that another star in the sky.
With a consteillation, you feel whole.

Bump bump, bump bump
Heartbeat there under the floor
Bump bump, bump bump
Heartbeat there, right by the door
Bump bump, bump bump
Heartbeat there, where nobody cares
Bump bump, bump bump
Heartbeat there, beat there
Bump bump, bump bump slower
Slower, slower beat so slow
Bump     bump     bump      bump
Heartbeat  there, please care
Bump                     bump
Heartbeat
Bump
.

The way they talk
The way they act
The way they are
The way they will always be
Is the same
So why does it bother them that I'm not the way they are?

I think the demons would knock down the door
If it weren't already open that is
I think they would hunt me down
That is if I was hiding
I think that their thinking for me
That is if they knew how to think

Life is just this yellow brick road
Its filled with stumbles and cracks that make us fall with no one to catch us
And we can only enjoy it when we get to the emarald city
Why can't we enjoy the road, the journey?
Why can't we stop and enjoy the scenes the journey gives us rather than just  looking forward at the emarald city?
Why follow the road to the city when all we have is the road?
We can't stop walking down the road
But why can't we notice it and everything it gives us?
Why is it that only the end matters when we can enjoy the journey there?
Why can't we enjoy our lives rather than just walking along the yellow brick road?

Sunday
A random couple
Monday
They said the words I love you to each other
Tuesday
They wake up the next day say it again just to make sure it was real
That they really loved each other
Wednesday
They say it again the next day
Thursday
And the next
Friday
And the next
How are they different on Friday then they were on Sunday? They're still the same people
They loved each other before they said the words I love you
Why is it just those words that matter to be heard?
Seriously why?
Why does that change?
Why is love altered so much by simply expressing it?

"If the world cared more about home than gold the world would be a jolly place"
Maybe if everyone else thought the world wasn't gold
It could be a home to a jolly place

We need to believe we can exsist.
We need to believe that we can stop destroying the world.
We need to believe that we aren't the flaw the world created by mistake.
We need to believe that we need to be here.
We need to believe in ourselves and our meaning.
We need to believe in the hope that we could get better.
We need to believe.
Because if we don't, there will be nothing left to believe in.

Freedom is trust.
Trust that you won't ***** up.
Trust shows that you believe in someone.
That you trust them to do the right thing
And clean up their own messes
And not let fear control everyone elses life.
Trust is freedom.
It's the freedom to believe that what I can do is greater then what others think.
Its the freedom to hope that my life can be better.
It is the freedom to believe in hope.
Freedom is hope.

Up there you are, glittering bright
But for some reason only at night
Maybe your hope
Giving strength when there is no light
Glittering bright

Understand this
Understand me
Understand something no one can see
Understand how I write
Understand that I'm without light
Understand the things I see
Understand that without that I'm not me
Understand who I am
Understand that I am me
And that there is no one else I would rather be

Family is bigger than what's in our blood.
Its the people we feel at home with.
It's the people who you hide nothing from,
aside from maybe a few white lies about haircuts or clothes.
It's the different world you enter when you're with them.
They're the safe haven of your life
It's the place where you only have to be you
And they don't expect you to be anyone else
And they always will because they're your
                                                        Fami­ly

I was Marge to his Homer.
I was Lois to his Peter.
I was Francis to his Stan.
So I guess we were about as real as those people.

We shouldn't  have to consider what we take from the world
But consider what the world is willing to give us instead

Will you love me when I have snot dripping from my nose and when I'm sneezing my head off?
Will you still love me when my bones creak with old age and my skin withers away to nothing but wrinkles?
Would you still love me if I started sceaming like a mad women and never stopped?
Will you still love me when you see what I am instead of who you think I am?
Will you love me through everything life can throw at us and all the madness underneath?
Will you love me forever and never let go?
Will you?