Times a goin, there's times that are still flowing, but the rhymes
don't bring me solace anymore.

I broke, ripped apart, tore even our hold, I'd swore our love would be
until we were old.

Forgive me, for the pain, forgive this feeble brain, cuz I lost myself
for nothing to gain.

Darling, old music don't sing no more, not around my parts, or around my heart, wife that ring looks cold, and you're gone.

why can i still see, and hear those birds, singing every morning, past all this hurt, how come the soul doesn't just explode.

Pain is no longer allegory, and I'm still just remaining me, oh baby,
how come, we don't just grow old.

The story looks at me, says in time and without even a please, but I, can only take so much more of this hold.

It's 8pm on a Tuesday,
she's getting drunk to sleep.

It's 9pm on a Tuesday, he's twenty and had a baby at noonday,
says he wants to die.

It's taking too long so she wants a break, guess there was never a thing to break.

Mother is sleeping and it's getting late, hope it's still much longer that I get to pray.

Time is ticking and I have no pay, what we all have in common is this and pain.

Of the ugliest things in the world, is how often something
becomes nothing.

How often things are laid to waste, because of a face,
or wrong kind of lace.

As if the hours before were no kind of trace, of a thing at all,
like the misery these things could never solve.

All of a sudden, the mystery is gone, the story, the want of it, is history, and you continue listening to the old song.

Toss me to the sharks, for such is the throng, of men, and mice,
of women and lice, of vultures that don't sleep in the nights.

Call me an armored woman, of beautiful armor, let her see glory in my sword being eternally gone.

Have a sweet place waiting, have the voices be cheers, have the misery become a song.

I breathe in her ashes, because she is as gone and more dispersed than yesterday,

the words I heard her say, were dreams, just fancies i esteemed, ultimately frivolous inklings,

to recant serves me no purpose, there is no pain, no hurt, just this, wistful sting,

heard a voice but once, and all i will have ever done is dreamt how she would sing.

It all hurts, the scrapes are just reminders,
that things we hold dear can get scars and lose their nerve,
that sometimes the night ends before a day begins,

Sometimes we fight, but what's the use,
where does it take us to even try to choose,
when the floor is all lava and we aren't wearing shoes,

crows crowing at night, calling their brothers,
calling their loves, calling their might,
just to end at the ending of another, calling for life.

Father, they don't have names,
Mother, is it their soul that I take,
is it mine, sister,
am I truly their brother.

what family have we,
us of the sorts with no further resort but to break,
I dance because I shake,
I bleed into a lake while beauty is my only sake.

How can it be, how can I seem, why can I dream,
but the stars are like birds afar, whose wings I just barely cannot make, their song, it seems fake.

On fire, skipping across the lake,
awaiting a painting that finally takes,
the moments into bliss,
the reading away from the fakes,
who dares, who calls my name,
who can tell me everything isn't the same,

all the words, coming like herds,
answering nothing, despite everything,
I heard, I break, I snake through the grounds
begging for the moments,
begging the torments, nag another day, let me escape,
I'm just a man, I yell, I scream, I bleed.