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Talk is cheap but still feels too expensive.
when did my heart and mind end on the for-rent list.
I would play you any song but only disappointment is on the set list.
I'll ask the genie at the bottom of the bottle for that last wish.

I might always be sad, but you'll never not be a liar
I hope these things come to you in those lonesome hours
I'm still buring with all of my passion
But worthless were my words and actions.
You get what you give, all you do is take
I hope I see the day your skeleton crumbles and your bones break.
There's just things I can't express
For once I think my father said it best
"Some emotions we have to swallow
And hope they rest"
You can inhale smoke into your chest
And let what you know fall
With grey-tinged breath
I've come to find
It leaves nothing left.
If you were a book, I would never read another. Memorize every line ,recall no other covers
If you were a film , I would adore the sliver screen , get lost in the gleam, rewatch every scene
If you were poetry, I would lose myself in verse, study your form till my eyes hurt

But you are not a object,not something to possess
You are not a art form, there is nothing to perfect
You are not lines on a page, there is nothing to correct
I will try for you , none the less.
There has always been something about rain
It is if the world realizes it is changing and always will
And for a brief moment grieves itself

So a storm rages inside
Hoping to wash myself away
This is an ode to a boyhood I wish not to remember
But it can't be put out like a cigarette's embers
Yet it burned my skin tender
I hope to mail it off in letters, no return address for sender

If only to be washed away by a April rain
Down the streets of my youth into old and forgotten storm drains
But the recollection remain, in the banks of my mind forever stained

The levies will break and the ground to mud
As the river floods
The current warm like our blood
We will say what has time done to us
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