You didn't blame it on me,
but it was my fault.
I had everything in the world to do with it
It ruined me.
I lost you.
All to make you happy.

Bitterly, this is the case.
I was the instigator.
All I can do is be here
To be here for you.

A torrent of confusion
mixed with young lust.
We dripped with it,
thinking bliss.

I have opened my eyes,
rather, I've had them opened for me.
The light is too bright
I wish I could go back.

My heart is gone,
blasted away with my own stupidity.
I don't know where to go
but you're here.

You're here..
You're always here.
Here mending my sorrows
Here rending my emotions

And every voice says
"leave her, she'll only hurt you more"
but I can't
she's so enchanting.

I need your embrace,
your loving arms around me.
It's like sweet music
that I can't help to stop listening to.
Each chord struck is another moment with you.
All I can do is put the song on repeat.

But!
I want to compose!
I want to create, to live symphonies with you!
To feel the pulse of the beat like the pulse of our hearts!
I want us to ink on each others' life parchment.
Melodious notes that we intertwine together,
that makes it an 'us'.
An 'us' is all I want.
I want records and records with you.

And you could blame it on me
Y'know, if it was my fault
If I had anything to do with it at all
It’d make me happy,
Even if I lost you
To make you happy.

Bittersweetly, that isn’t the case
Because I’m not the instigator
All I can do is be here
To be here, for you.

I’m sorry, I’m sorry.
The chorus of voices come from nowhere,
And lead me equally so,
I’m sorry, I’m sorry,
Apologizing for an unseen infraction,
Nothing is unforgivable.

Did it explode?
They keep walking, breaking glass.
No one around them can stop them.
Paying no attention to the pieces of broken glass,
They continue on their deadly masquerade,
With a malevolent soul supplying the masques.

I’m sorry, I’m sorry.
The chorus of voices return,
I’m sorry, I’m sorry,
Bringing more meaning to the racing thoughts.

Footsteps.
Paranoia.
The cicadas stop in an orchestrated silence.
Step. Step.
I’m alone. No one is there.

I’m sorry, I’m sorry
A dream? Is that what it is?
I’m sorry, I’m sorry.
Am I crazy?
Where are the answers?

I need to tell someone.
It is killing me.
I need to let people know.
What good is it, that the ones I need to tell, are yet the ones doing the killing?

I’m sorry, I’m sorry,
that the truth cannot be shown.

A man in a prison, ‘till death do they part
Burning wood a wedding ring, twisted steel the altar
The roar of the flames is the voice of the preacher
The only voice of reality, is that mellow brass sound
Drowned about out by the precession, a chaotic occasion

A man in adulthood, the world still burning
Children born, from the oblivion his home
They know not anything else
Embracing their home with the ignorance of a newborn

A man is an elder, experienced through life
To find that the inferno, was just a ward
To bide it’s time, patiently waiting
For the end of his life, the oblivion has been realized

A man playing in slow motion as the world burns around him
Not a care in the world, just him and his trumpet
He knows what’s coming, but he cannot stop it
He just sits back, lets the oblivion consume him.

I got my head in the sand,

but it feels like the stars.



I got things on my mind,

that're too crazy to fly.



I got a dream in my future,

but traps abound.



I got my broken heart pumping,

to a new beat, to you.

Oh what a depressed state of mind,

but I can't help but keep this dumb grin on my face.

I've got a longing in my heart

a longing so deep it surpasses any want of air.

It's something so warm as sun-baked stones in the middle of July,

something that gives you shivers like the coldest winters' snow,

it goes beyond what words can describe,

and it doesn't make sense to anyone but you.

When you can find beauty in everything in the world,

it takes its form.

You close your eyes,

Lean in closer.

And it's

Love.

You're a liar.

Decadent. A thief.

Harlot, lowlife, general ****.



You, sir or madam, bring ****** to bed.

You are a drunkard in the street.

You beg, when you have enough.



You, my good friend, have greed and avarice that surpasses all.

Please, take my money and my soul.

You pig.



Any assorted profanity could describe what you are.

You lowly

little

speck of dust.



I can't bear myself to be near you.

You might start to leech off me.

You parasite.



What? Me? What are you talking about?

I'm none of those.

I'm just a hypocrite.

The fresh rain is new love
The sights,
The sounds,
The experience.

And even thunder has its place,
At first frightening,
It shines its own beauty
As the passion of love, beckoning for more rain.

And the day after, in the soggy aftermath
Is lasting love.
A catalyst for life
Through its nourishing waters.

Rain is life, just as love is.
Always present.