Help me up off my feet
usually dancing so free
Pick me up my dear
just for me.

They're not as free as they used to be
I'm tired and blue
But they may dance again
Be free again just for you.

So hold me and show me this long forgotten land
I want to tango and waltz,
and run through the sand
Can you help me get up
and hold my hand?

i am a ghost story
a glass half full shattered on the floor
a dusty attic holding feeble bits of memories
memories like you and i firecracker fighting
being daydream drunk in the middle of the afternoon

i am weak
i cannot bear the weight of your eyes upon my body and so i breadcrumb crumble
ashes to dust
dust to ashes
onto your dank cement floor
and i see you thinking that if you clean it up fast enough no one will see what you are capable of

now i am a burning being
and you're the one
that set me on fire

I like pens that bleed
Ink that smears
Girls with scars
Broken parts
***** clothes
Stained sheets
The hint of blood
The taste of lust
The smells of love
Nights through morning
Mornings to night
Suns that sleep
Moons that dream
And all the pretty
You hide underneath
Those pretty
Pretty
Pretty things