In my dreams
I have met my maker
One hundred thousand times
And given the beauty of it all
Would be one hundred thousand suns
But these are just lines
Words voided of no truth
In your eyes.
I could beg,
Go back and rewrite
Everything that I said
But it's met with silence
I would cry in front of you
But that would be attention seeking too
And so now it's just me
And these four walls
That have known the truth
Waiting patiently to drink my sobriety
To mock the reality
And I could explain how
I didn't know it was you
But when eyes met
I felt tight and breath labored
Make jokes to them
Have them come look at the
Sculpture alone at forty one
If I knew, if I wasn't blind
Past your darken eyes
My heart would beat
With fluorescent's and call back to home
Still,
Met with silence
Because when I burn bridges
With my actions
With my words
With my thoughts
Not even the one to put effort
Into calling out to me
Will answer

Old tomb is lit by blue, reflecting stone
'You're almost to this summer home'
Wooden box is met at where you left your mark
And that is where I start
A playground takes up a bit of the part
And the wood wrapped around the tree,
Cut down to sooth the past when I felt free

So much has changed,
You will never know
And now that you found a way to be my favorite ghost
Well, I guess I should go

I should probably go

But the sound from dials aren't coming through
And I just hear the
Boom, boom, boom, boom
Of a heart brought back to life
Just for you
And now I'm crying,
Won't look in the rear view
And someday I'll have a mark for you too
And I'll let you know how people changing for the better is true

And in my head,
This would be done right
And in my head,
There would be no end to the fight
And in my head,
I wouldn't fade from your sight
And in my head,
There would be no reason to cry tonight

But you go too fast
You go and it doesn't last
And now I'm drowning in your past
I succumb to your arms
Pulling me out of Lake *****,
Only in my head.

It's just you
Alone in a room built
For the trinity of two
Remnants of fingertiped guilt

Went up hills
To liquid stain tooth
To remember the feel
And a loss of worshipping youth

Now you go quickly instead,
Grind your yellow, aged teeth
Pain slow like sudafed
Sacred ground under tired feet
And in your head,
You'd remember how he'd breath;
Rising up from the dead