Come lay your hands upon me,
dig your fingers to rip my skin apart.
Trace your lips softly and gently,
before biting down on my beating heart.

I spotted a fortune teller at an old county fair
while knowing the answers I still looked for some there.
There was no love line or fate line she could’ve read,
I told her I bet there’s no sun line, life line or trace of a head.
She met my eyes with sadness written all over her face,
and told me out of all people that I was her worst case.
She traced the inside of my hand intently trying to see
then she asked me had I recently been burned severely.

In my death bed I’ve been waiting patiently for sleep
sadly I’m not the one it wishes to greet.
With past scars and present fresh wounds tunnelling down so deep,
loss of blood and mind so I’m left as just a sack of meat.

A loving caress to each feature
but succeed in only poking the bone,
and every single living creature
dies completely alone.
She was a rainbow and I; charcoal grey,
they all choose to go but claim they wish to stay.

The beeping bouncing off the wall
steady like sirens or alarms,
and at the end of it all
we all die in our own arms.
She was a rainbow and I; charcoal grey,
I still catch her glow but it’s fading away,
I know it could never last, but I still have to pray,
‘cause I am the past and she’s only in today.

I’ve acted strong and kept up this ruse,
atleast I can say I’ve always been brave,
but when I’m not digging up the past, ghosts or clues,
I’ve steadily been digging my own grave.

No lines, no ties, not a single strand.
I’ve got the palmist right in the palm of my hand.

Today I realized I’m responsible
for the destructive crash
that brought me to where I am.
There were quite a few red lights,
but I ignored them completely.
After all, it’s the green lights
that always look so beautiful
when you are out at night.

My love is more pure than a diamond,
even with a heart of dark, black coal.
Lately I've been expanding my mind and,
getting high on draining my soul.
I skip notes like a broken record,
and thus conversation is never relayed.
I make choices with how it will affect her,
we both know that's how the game is played.

But I know that I have the potential to destroy a life,
and that's why I decorate in caution tape.
Yes I know it reflects shining misery and strife,
but I've been strapped in so long; I can't escape.

I've got high hopes and low odds,
hearing only demons who act as gods.
I've got low morale but skin of steel,
even when I watch it bleed and peel.

My love is more pure than the deepest of seas,
even with affection that's coarse like sand.
Lately I've been biting and silencing my pleas,
and digging my nails straight into my hand.
I sink ships like a waiting ice field,
stopping it dead right in it's path,
and not even the greatest mirror shield,
could ever withstand my full wrath.

'Cause I know that I have the ability to stick around,
so I try to make sure that I am never really there.
My soul fears the day when it is chained and bound,
but the opportunities seem so very rare.

I've got high hopes and low odds,
rambling this nonsense with the nods.
I've got low morale but skin of steel,
it deflects the good and bad that I should feel.

Maybe you were never ready
to carry a weight that’s so heavy.
If you can’t set the course,
you’re going to need to follow.
You can bring water to a horse
but you can’t make it swallow.

You have to put your foot down
to ever take a step forward.
From the city back to town,
from space bound to homeward.

But she’s a Medusa with a mirror,
frozen inlove with her own reflection.
You scream your lungs out but even near her,
you’re always ignored;under detection.

Maybe you were never prepared
to share a burden that should never be shared.
It’s been a few years; it’s been some time
since you lodged your last complaint.
I’d like to believe you’re now doing fine,
and you’d like to believe you’re just a saint.

You have to put your foot down
to ever take a step forward.
Follow the air bubbles to not drown
don’t turn a drama into a horror.

But she’s a Medusa with a mirror,
frozen inlove with her own reflection.
If she can’t move will you still fear her,
and her manipulation and deflection?

I sometimes forget Medusa was victim to a curse,
and I never tried to make it better but I sure as hell made it worse.
Maybe Athena could’ve been more forgiving and kind,
she didn’t have to leave her living, or she could’ve made her blind.
She could’ve plugged her ears
so she wouldn’t have to hear the screams
of the men who holds fears
of a woman who dreams.
She could’ve ripped off her nose
or just taken her voice,
sometimes that the way it goes
you just don’t get a choice.

But she’s a Medusa with a mirror,
frozen inlove with her own reflection.
Even if she could scream no one would hear her,
and long ago got used to the rejection.

Tell me Pluto,
how does it feel
to be told you’re a planet for years
and then labelled as an accessory for our solar system?
But also, to be reassured, that although you’re small,
you’re just as good as the rest,
and endearingly enough,
someone’s favourite planet?

And while you sit on the outskirts,
in the far, vast, pitch black
edges of a far brighter galaxy than you,
do you marvel at the beauty and size
of every other planet judged more
legitimate and important than you,
and do you make friends with the microscopic stars?

You are told you aren’t what you are,
and you are what you aren’t,
I wouldn’t blame you for drifting further,
I think I would probably do the same.
But know some are very passionate
about your state in our galaxy,
many people believe you to be of importance;
whether it’s nostalgia, empathy or just fear of change.
Regardless, you have a small army
of people who are very vocal,
about your right to be alongside with all the other planets.

Just because you’re small
and not as visually appealing as the rest,
or because you’re pushed to the coldest, darkest regions of space, does not make you deserving of isolation.
Infact, it makes you more worthy of adoration.
For you Pluto, for all the hardships
and all the abandonment you have felt,
you have never told another planet they themselves,weren’t real,
and you’ve never drawn anyone close to you,
to suffer in your loneliness.

I’ll bring you the moon
and the stars will come down for you tonight.
I hope that you will show up soon,
but I don’t see one trace of light.
I’m at dead end ruin,
I guess I should’ve made a right.
Bound to pop just like a balloon,
no need to apply strength or might.

So don’t try to stray
it will never be through,
you can’t run away,
she’s not done with you.

Climb out from the dark,
but take a break before you tire.
I thought that I did feel a spark
but realized that I’m on fire.
I’m ash; my body is an urn,
I beg to be spread and to be set free.
So blindingly bright you burn
but there’s no complaints from me.

So don’t try to stray,
it’s something you can’t do,
you can’t run away,
she’s not done with you.
Every night and day,
one thing rings true,
sidelined and kept at bay,
it’s just déjà vu.

You know I have nothing left to lose
but I’d still give all of my nothing over to you.
Out of options but there’s only one thing that I’d choose,
the only thing I know, but still a mystery lacking a clue.

Think of how beautiful life could be
and all of the colours that could come from grey.
Just take a single step towards me
and I’ll carry us both the rest of the way.

I won’t try to stray,
you know I’m stuck like glue,
I’ll never run away,
I’ll follow it through.
There’s nothing else to say,
one divided by two,
and come what may,
it’s all déjà vu.

I’ll keep my distance
but dream of you nightly.
But in this instance
you just shine so brightly.

Good to know you, but I'm
Over and
Out.
Done being left in the cold only to be
Braving a drought.
Yes, I'm here, let's clear the doubt, the story has
Ended, and I'm not sure what it's about.

I put in my time and I paid the price,
I gained the honour to be your personal sacrifice.
I traded my last breath for your new beginning,
it wasn’t the alter I envisioned, but I still consider this winning.

I swear every single word up and down,
it was voluntary; you didn’t need to trap me.
You know I’d crush my structure to resist your frown,
and I’ll give anything to know I played a roll in making you happy.

I spoke the oath now do the deed,
to help your growth you know I’d bleed.
I swapped my last day for the first in your new life,
I apologize for bleeding while suggesting a better way for you to hold the knife.

I demolished my own walls for you to see open doors,
I’ll remain motionless, no need to strap me.
I always promised you that I’d gladly give my life for yours,
it would be worth it knowing I played a part in making you happy.

I reject my last rights and deny my last meal,
I ponder an anaesthetic but choose instead to feel.  
And if you were to offer me a chance to leave and run,
I’d suggest the most dangerous game but I don’t have a gun.

Some would call me a down right fool,
and supportive well wishers would tell me I hold more worth than this.
But to assist in your desired creation; I’d be canvas, supply or tool,
to be responsible for that smile is the only thing that’s priceless.

After it all I’m reduced to dust and bone,
you’ll keep going on and I’m now put to rest.
But you know deep down you’re never alone,
you’ll still carry my heartbeat within your chest.

I once heard that suicide was painless,
especially if you use the steel that is stainless.
But when you go, you're bound to die nameless,
and everyone is helpless but no one is blameless.

I once heard you could determine your life with a game of MASH,
from who you would marry and if they'd have cash.
The future was written out but the ink gave me a rash,
and the destination was plotted to come to a crash.

Now through early morning fog I see,
every regret and every memory,
grasping a hopeful visionary,
that in this life we can be free.

I once heard that suicide was painless,
and with tragedy you can become famous,
but the outcome is always quite heinous,
and we all have pride but the release is shameless.

Now through early morning fog I see,
the line between truth and reality,
and with every wish and every plea,
I beg the world to just let it be.

Yes suicide is painless,
it's a route of living chainless,
but it only leaves destruction in it's wake.
Yes suicide is painless,
it's skies are always rainless,
but the rays of sunshine are extremely fake.

Yes suicide is painless,
It's outcome is very gainless,
the only thing that's gifted is heartbreak.

When I was fourteen
my sister was teaching me how to drive,
I went to make a left turn and hit the breaks; second guessing myself.
“Never hesitate,” she said,
“it’s when you hesitate that causes a crash.”
“Make a decision and go with it.”
All these years later it still rings true.
All these years later I still have yet to listen.

You, you've got me drunk off love,
you're all I ever think of,
your soul fits mine as a glove,
you're an angel from above.

You hold my heart, my hands; both the church and steeple,
now I finally understand why storms are named after people.

You are my only and my first,
you're the water to my thirst,
my heart feels bound to burst,
and to think I once believed myself cursed.

You hold my heart, my brain and my soul,
now I know you can be both empty and whole.

I'm full of heat, oh I feel the burn,
and my only feat is to yearn.
I was in the dark, always in a funk,
you've left your mark and now I'm love drunk.

I was lost until you found me there,
you stripped my walls right down bare,
you shine so bright that you have a glare,
I'm a drowning woman and you are my air.

You hold my heart, my life and my mind,
now I understand how love can make you blind.

I'm full of heat, oh I feel the burn,
and I've been beat so it's my time to learn,
I was down and my ship was sunk,
and when you're around I'm always love drunk.

My dear you are my favourite drug,
and I've done a few and drank to chug,
so come on love, I'll hold you close,
I'll put you in my veins and up my nose.

As always I'm dreading just leaving my bed,
I've got a hundred thoughts threading fog through my head.
Another day to live, twenty-four hours of fight,
I don't have much else to give; I used it all up last night.
Am I the only one to see colour in different shades and hues?
'Cause lately this world seems duller, the Earth has lost it's muse.

My body is aching through every bone and joint,
and my will is breaking, for I no longer see the point.
I grasp fire just to feel pain and stare at the sun to go blind,
It seems I've got a plastic brain and a melting mind.

I'm stressing out in a traffic even though I'm in no real hurry,
but in my head details are graphic of every fear and worry.
Another week to go through, seven days of pointless waste,
you know the feeling too true, you know it's feel and it's taste.
Am I the only one to see colour, instead of just white and black?
'Cause lately this world is duller, there's so much that we lack.

My body is aching from my head down to my toes,
and I'm just faking the knowledge no one else really knows.
I wonder if I'm sane, and if I'm alone and confined,
it seems I've got a plastic brain and a melting mind.

Why does it feel that every person I meet isn't real?
As if they're stuck in a dream, or following a line down stream.
Does anyone else think like this?
That there's something we all miss,
'cause wasn't life a gift of bliss?
Instead we regret and only reminisce.

My body is aching through every limb and pore,
and no matter what you're making, you'll always need more.
Can't be another link in a chain; bound, locked and intertwined,
I suffer from a plastic brain and a melting mind.

You lounge on my pillow
weaving your dreams into my ear,
and whenever I feel the wind blow
it's your name I always hear.
This final boss I just can't fight
even when on the easy mode,
up up, down down, left right, left right,
B A, B A, select and start; that is the contra code.

I won't compare your eyes
to the ocean or the skies,
but instead to my own veins.
I've always hated goodbyes,
but "see you soon" is always lies,
but I always return with the rains.

You lay in state upon my bed
stretching out into my dreams,
we're held together by a single thread
that's been stretching at the seams.
If you be my ears then I'll be your sight,
we can equally share this heavy load,
up up, down down, left right, left right,
B A, B A, select and start; that is the contra code.

I won't compare your eyes
to the seas or a sunrise,
but instead to my own veins.
I've always hated goodbyes,
but was good with cutting ties,
yet the cut strand still remains.

I'm searching for an extra heart
to gain myself some life,
'cause I gave up both long ago.
I want to reset but instead I start,
I want a sword but I have a knife,
I want to be high but I am low.

You fight to stay up till dawn
on my shoulder and in my head,
and while I shrug off each yawn
you exaggerate them instead.
In the darkness I'll be your light,
I'll guide you down each path and road,
up up, down down, left right, left right,
B A, B A, select and start; that is the contra code.

Tell me I’m not stupid for allowing myself to feel,
searching out for the next wound before letting the former heal,
I’ve been convincing myself that the invisible path is real,
but it’s not wide enough for two; one can stand and one can kneel.

If there’s anything in this world that tightens my chest,
it’s the moment I am strangled by vulnerability.
I keep it chained away to the very best,
to the very best of all my abilities.
Take all those thrown away phrases
and piece them back together to hit my ears
it’s funny how the long silence still amazes,
amazes me after all these quiet years.

Are you Sonic the hedgehog,
‘cause this is a chaos emerald.
Wipe away the tears to see the fog,
my world shakes when once it trembled.
I’ve got an easy road ahead of me
where the path could be so easy,
but I’m drawn to walk into the sea,
I wish that instinctive pull would leave me.

We humans are such destructive creatures
we turn soil to scorched earth with just one touch.
It’s the curse of emotions and all it features,
makes us decline a cast and accept a crutch.
We fall prey to our monsters like a disease,
do I pick life support or a clean cut cure?
A solid steel spine or weak and shaking knees?
Toxic lungs or a gasp of air too pure?

Should I swallow this gulp of mundane routine
conform and erase all individuality?
The white picket fence in photographs is so pristine
but it’s covered in dust and mold the naked eye can’t see.

My storybook ending is incomplete
as I didn’t much care for the ending.
I traded in tragedy instead of something sweet,
‘cause I’ve never been so good at pretending.
All along there are holes both in the souls and plot,
and I wish to roll but can’t afford the toll as empty hands are all I got

Let your mind slip for tonight
forget who and where we are,
alter the wrongs to make them right
return to the sky each faded star.
We could succeed in changing time
turn a foe to trusted friend,
is it even really a crime
to repair what was never meant to bend?

Even when the sun forgets to rise
you’ll be there lighting up the skies,
hypnotized by the galaxy in your eyes.
And if the world can no longer turn
you’ll see that the fire continues to burn,
and learn that there’s no need for concern.
You’ll know you’re irreplaceable.

This is just part of who we are,
we couldn’t escape it if we tried,
and even when you’re so very far
you still know I’m by your side.
It’ll be like this forever,
no matter what we do,
things change just like the weather
but never me and you.

Even when the sun forgets to rise
you’ll be there lighting up the skies,
it’s both beautiful and tragic how fast time flies.
And if the world can no longer turn
you’ll see that the fire continues to burn,
you were worth the wait and necessary to earn,
you should know, you’re irreplaceable.

And I carefully watch the constellations,
that take form within her deep eyes.
A million blank pages of declarations,
impossible for me to ever summarize.
I measure love from ground to mars,
and how I’ve never felt so complete,
but it spans all across the stars,
the same space where our souls meet.

Even when the sun forgets to rise
you’ll be there lighting up the skies,
you’re the one exception to every rule, none applies.
And if the world can no longer turn
you’ll see that the fire continues to burn,
you’re all I want, I long for and yearn,
you’ve always been irreplaceable.

Ask lone questions that were made for a King,
one who was born mute, blind and deaf.
He'll express the most breathtaking things,
only coming from this final breath.

They say the pen is mightier than the sword,
but I chose both.

I would kiss a million girls
just so I could taste your lip gloss,
knowing it would never
taste as sweet on another’s lips.

The colours to illustrate you don’t exist,
and even if they did I still would miss,
a single shade or hue
that fully captures you.
Better than a Mona Lisa smile,
and Starry Starry Night eyes,
I tried for a mosaic but there was no perfect tile,
nothing could do justice, blasphemy to anyone that tries.

You’re a living, breathing masterpiece;
every gallery should be honoured to have you on their walls.
Too complex for graffiti on the streets,
too heavenly for concert halls.
I can write you; rainbow and tornado,
orbs of faint blue, and a grin of sweet day glow.
Oceanic waves and erupting volcano,
the sun’s ray that came on through,
and the embrace within the wind’s blow.

There isn’t a single brush head I could find,
that could stroke each corner of your mind,
it’s too complex and deep,
it’d be so stunning, it would make all weep.
Putting shame to an Impression, Sunrise
and casting shadows on Lady with an Ermine,
as just a simple picture of your eyes
would last eternally through time.

You’re a living, breathing masterpiece;
not meant for a mere mortal to possess.
Completely perfect personality, traits and feats,
every other human design was just a test.
I can write you, style and rhyme,
blindly bright, natural sunshine.
Digging only at surface to fit into each line,
but there’s no describing what connects it all or the bind.

I know the answer but if you said,
that your favourite colour was red,
I’d let myself bleed out to provide you some paint.
Non acrylic and totally free of lead,
I’d wish for you to illustrate the picture  within my head,
even if the proportions are wrong,
and the lines are blurred and faint.

You’re a living, breathing masterpiece;
completely impossible to duplicate.
Though unfinished you’re still complete,
amazingly flawless in this state.
I can write you; every day till I die,
until the pages and filled and my pens run dry.
Deep like the ocean, but bright like the sky,
and you’ll steal the hearts and breath of all passing by.

Existence stretched through a detour,
two spots; unknown in direction.
Turning left when it was right before,
keep all guessing, slide past detection.

I’m not a one stop shop,
once I housed hand crafted originality.
With the increase in demand I let my guard drop,
and now both my shelves and insides are empty.
I believed in a watcher behind me,
I held onto tight to an invisible thread.
Everyone is just silently constantly reminding me,
I’m isolated and alone even in my head.

I hear the loud pop of plastic against plastic,
feeling both relief and shame simultaneously.
Side slipping and back breaking; I thought myself a gymnastic,
though incredulous was the thought of even competing.

But I was sleeping in a Chinese finger trap,
so assured that I would choose to make it a womb.
You couldn’t hear a pin drop but with the concept of a single tap,
ears would shake and ring as if it were a sonic boom.
I’ve got nothing but dirt and dust on my shoulders
I pass it off as glitter and simple magic.
I show no signs of tiring from passing back all the boulders
if I didn’t let them slide it would almost be tragic.

Pardon my complacent self involuntary involvement,
and excuse me while I perform dramatic ironies.
Preparing the conscious for the next inevitable instalment
of prepared monologues of justifications and fallacies.

And I can’t but think in this instance,
I remember the episode of The Simpsons
where Homer is outcasted for screaming “aliens”
and he drinks himself out of existence.
“Red M&M, blue M&M,
they’re all the same colour in the end.”

She sits on sandy banks,
the most beautiful sight one could see.
I give the universe endless thanks
for bringing and gifting her to me.
We’re a perfect paradise,
she’s always calmed me to breathe.
It paid off that she rolled the dice,
I know she’s not one for betting.

I can see stars looking out our window;
they illuminate us warm in our bed.
Through the screen I hear the wind blow,
it’s like a lullaby playing in my head.
“I love you more than you’ll ever know,”
You’re in my veins as the blood I’ve always bled.

Warming hands and pulling at shades,
rolling in white sands and waves, cascades.
Toppling over all the sand castles that were made,
brushing fingers on grassy patches; admiring every blade.

Watching the summer wind whip your hair to kiss your face
I start to begin to put them back into place,
before I declare that the act is just a waste
as natural perfection is one of your many traits.

There’s no lies and no regrets,
just those sweet summer sunsets
and those relaxed and easy breaths,
you are the best soul I’ve ever met.
And we were acting like there were whales in Wasaga beach,
who says there wasn’t baby, maybe they were just out of reach.

If I went back in time I’d kick myself in the shin,
try to grow a spine and then reinforce my chin,
with hardened steel over rusted tin.
‘Cause it’s taken hits beyond count, infact I’ve lost track of the amount,
but I know even with my jaw broken I can still force out a grin.

I don’t want to have to lie
but it seems I’m guided into it for an alibi,
and I can’t help but question why I try,
when there’s no one to answer to; just time flying by.

I’m not as stupid as I act,
but I guess I can say I’m a good actor.
I make a sound but immediately retract,
because in a split second I balance every factor.
I don’t want to be another casualty
in a war effort so effortlessly,
in a fight that shouldn’t concern me,
but my flight instinct took flight instinctively.

If I could go back in time I’d clock myself in the face,
past me would rebut “what a disgrace,”
while I’d agree to the mirrored me who’s never finishing, **** even last place.
I know that my shoes were tight and tied,
I was at the line waiting I never could hide,
but still I’d trip and flounder, I should’ve double checked each lace.

I don’t want to have to lie
but it seems it’s better than admitting defeat or spitting out a goodbye.
And I can’t help but wonder why,
I even cry when I’ve taped my mouth shut and closed each eye.

The butterfly of my effect has lost each wing,
trapped in a jar, not going far;
what a tragic thing.
I press my hand against the dome,
to let it be known, it’s not alone,
this prison’s now it’s home.

Poetry has given me the ability to travel through time
to stand in shoes I abandoned on the concrete.
Paint the scenery in every word and rhyme,
and change the outcome in each stanza and beat.

I fully feel the sun shine and the wind’s blow
every single day like I’ve just arrived and met.
Now I’m cursed to be a Romeo to a stand in Juliet.
Design the plan for me, and I’ll blur the lines and matra,
I’ll fight as Marc Anthony to only one Cleopatra.

My dad spent most of his life
singing songs wishing to be a rockstar.
“Can’t get no satisfaction” and “Mack the knife”
a handful of applause from drunks in a dark bar.

The sights I hated to see
now the person I don’t wish to be,
my potential could be monumental
if I could just turn dreams to reality.
The days of a wasted youth
ignoring a tragic truth,
I could make history by solving a mystery
if I could only find the proof.

My mom’s favourite song was “Fast Car”
but at the funeral, I picked Fleetwood’s “Landslide.”
There was no point in highlighting an old scar,
some times and places, there’s just things you should hide.

The sights I hated to see
can’t be wiped from my memory,
and what I fear the most is that there’s no ghost
that has been haunting me.
Now I get the appeal of the drink
from the cabinet or underneath the sink,
without warning, about ten in the morning
it was worse than you could ever hope or think.

My feet pushed against the white floor board
and my back leaned up against the bed.
Thinking about how the surface was scored,
the colours mix; white, orange blue and red.
In the basement with my precious; my hoard,
with the knowledge no one would know if I were dead.
Suddenly it was a thought that I explored
that maybe I enjoyed that course instead.
And to the heights I once soared,
please tell me the best days are still ahead.

It's the black and white memories,
the one's that we all try to hide,
but the more that's blocked, the more you see,
and you can't erase what's inside.

She tells her story, and it's heartbreaking,
while you say sorry you're both shaking,
you tell yourself this is real, but you're really feeling numb,
that's how you always feel when you're at Don's Plum.

She tells her fears to quiet mirrors,
and expresses her sadness and stress.
Through all the tears she prays someone hears her,
because it's gotten to madness and she's become a mess.

In the booth you're all laughing, sharing the old jokes,
but the cigarette smoke is masking your instinct to choke.
You think you're made of steel, but you know you're just ****,
that's how you always feel when you're at Don's Plum.

Every song you hear is nostalgic,
and it brings a smile to your face,
within the whispers is a hint of magic,
but the topics are lacking charm and grace.
And every soul that wanders in, is worse when they're outside,
for everyone is born of sin, but we sure all seem satisfied.

She tells you her story, and it's heartbreaking,
it all came before me and the choices I'm making.
You've lost track of how to deal, you say the issues are dumb,
and that's how you always feel when you're at Don's Plum.

You call yourself a soldier of fortune,
you have no idea how right you are.
Even though you think you're fighting for something important,
you're marching for a rich man's new car.
Each bullet you shoot is a stock market spike,
and each victory is new land to claim.
To them you're a barcode or close to the like,
those you fight for don't bother to know your name.

History is written by the winners,
so don't trust the accounts you read.
The strings are all pulled by the sinners,
who wouldn't offer you a bandaid while you bleed.
You may give your life for the flag,
there's honour in that thought.
But they're using your morals to drag,
you and your platoon from spot to spot.
To shoot to **** and see what treasures they've got.

The industries fund each side of the war,
making life and death just a casual bet.
Ford provides the tanks for both just like before,
money spent with a return they're guaranteed to get.
Land's value is more than you know,
'cause the world ain't making anymore anytime soon.
So pick a spot on the globe and go,
and ship out the next loyal platoon.

History is written by the winners,
so always question what you hear.
Behind the scenes there's profiteers and grinners,
and you're seizing the power and resources they hold so dear.
You may give your life to protect,
every single man, woman and child,
but they're using you in retrospect,
and smuggling things in a corpse defiled.
Do they even glance at the bodies that they have piled?

The world's in trouble, there's no denying,
and each soldier has stayed true and loyal.
But at home the problem is double, you'd never know with their lying.
You can't fight your own men and thus you can't get the oil.

Just like every crime, you have to follow the paper trial,
it's no different this time, you're a victim of a government that seeks to fail.
They've made you into a collection agency,
one with guns to force a payment.
It's in plain sight so blatantly,
every person and country has to pay their rent.
For population control,
everyone has to pay the toll.

History is written by the winners,
so only one side gets to plead it's case.
Instead of helping the kids getting thinner,
evil gets a makeover and changes it's face.
I don't wish to shame anyone doing their duty,
I know you believe you're doing the right thing.
But what I'm saying, or eluding,
is they've turned war into business that's always profiting.
So before you put your uniform on,
ask who will benefit from this battle.
You might see the side you fight for is wrong,
and they're marching you to slaughter like cattle.

The real wars are at home,
but they want the heroes to roam,
No one to stop their own war crimes,
counting dollars, quarters, nickels and dimes.
They even call it a machine,
could it be more obvious what they mean?

"Will you always love me?"
The question is absolutely ridiculous; I have loved her a million lifetimes before, and I will love her for a million lifetimes after.
Our souls mesh and fit every inch of each other.
Our minds are forever connected, and our hearts are perfectly intertwined.

"Will you always be.."
"Mine?" I finish for her, like many sentences she speaks.
My answer is a smile, a true and genuine smile.
A smile that, before her, never had graced my lips before.
She possess every single speckle of my being,
my organs were utterly useless before I donated them to her.
Her hands fit in mine perfectly,
and my skin is electrified by simply brushing up beside her.

"I love her."
I tell my mother's headstone, when I catch up with the grass and trees in the graveyard.
Four years have flown by, and everyday I am still more in love than the last.
When we're good we're great, and when we're bad we're good.

"She's the one" the stars hear my thoughts,
a constant running track in the style of an infinity symbol;
every grain on it being a vision of only her.

"She is my world"
and I live for her, every. single. day.

We determined our future in a game of M.A.S.H
but the outcome we could never measure,
and you know what they say about one person’s trash
it ends up being someone else’s treasure.

My eyes are black and blue,
bruising that came from you.
With nothing right to say and nothing left to do.
I sewed my mouth closed, next time I think I’ll use glue.

Her heart strings were pulled just too tight,
they would snap and break with any given pressure.
And she could never hit the notes just right,
but one person’s disdain is another person’s pleasure.

My eyes are black and blue,
bruising that make up shows right through.
With nothing right to say and nothing left to do.
We played every board game but never stopped with clue.

I’ve never been one for odd numbers
unless it’s the number seven.
Numerology really makes me wonder
is there a mathematical equation to heaven?
My birthdate became a date of rebirth
as every year I killed a part of myself,
it’s not that I believed myself to lack worth,
it was just a challenge to see if plastic happiness could bring health.

My eyes are black and blue,
representing every shade and hue.
Like a serene painting of morning dew.
I’ll keep spinning it until it becomes true.

“He was a painter who only painted in red.”
There’s that connection between art and bloodshed.
I hang all those pictures on the walls inside my head,
‘cause they’ll never match the colour of the room with my bed.

My eyes are black and blue,
but even the swelling can’t block my view.
With nothing right to say and nothing left to do.
I’ll have to accept there’s somethings you can’t construe.

There's noises in the dark, they're keeping me on edge,
the scars have made their mark, a result from all I pledge.
I'm waiting for disaster, but it's always coming in a disguise,
I wish that time would go by faster, I'm counting days by the skies.

Oh, I know I went brain numb,
my wits were just going to waste.
Like a hand without a thumb,
like a tongue that cannot taste.

I'm seeing dreams while I'm awake, and it's making me lose sleep.
A soul can bend, but can it break? And can dry eyes still weep?
Sitting behind three locked doors and I still fail to feel safe,
I hear cracking above on the floors,
my skin is raw and my ears chafe.

Oh, I know I've become uptight,
my shoulders will never again slack.
Like two eyes without sight,
like a spine without a back.

"Just because you're paranoid,
doesn't mean they're not after you."
Everything around you has been destroyed,
but they tell you that isn't true.

Oh, I know I've lost control,
but it was already falling apart.
Like a life without a soul,
like a body without a heart.

You know I have every right to feel this anger swelling,
betrayal and heartbreak were the cards you wished to deal.
You say the future has no sure way of telling,
but I’m telling you now and you’re ignoring what I feel.

Try to save yourself, from the truth,
this time you won’t get my help,
so continue on acting aloof.
You know that I’m right to say,
if the tables had been turned,
it would all play out in a different way,
it’d be my name slandered and burned.

Please don’t make me live without you,
show me some mercy and be forgiving,
‘cause to be honest I’ll admit a fact painfully true,
life without you; I wouldn’t call that living.

You know I have a secret smile
that you and only you get to see
and I know that it’s been a while,
I don’t smile much at all lately.
You’ll take me, then you’ll break me and then fault me for the cracks.
You’ll shake me, and forsake me,
and try to wipe out and cover your tracks.

There’s this hole that’s essential
and it no longer can be filled.
A space in time so monumental,
I might as well have been killed

Please don’t make me live without you,
show me some mercy and be forgiving,
the skies are dark and it’s I that is blue,
as life without you; I wouldn’t call that living.

You are the one my heart beats for,
but you also brutally beat my heart.
You are the one that I completely adore,
but when I flatline can you restart?

Please don’t make me live without you,
show me some mercy and be forgiving,
there’s nowhere to go and nothing to do,
‘cause life without you; I wouldn’t call that living.

You know I’d never wish to hurt you,
before seeing you weep I’d choose to die.
But I could never even think to dessert you,
‘cause there’s no good in goodbye.

Do you feel a weight of regret,
do you even feel slightly bad?
‘Cause since the first day we met,
you said you’d still love me even wearing plaid on plaid.

If I could do it all, know that I would,
but I can't, and I'm not sure what to even do,
but I've figured out that you can't be misunderstood,
if everyone knows they can't understand you.

No one could ever dream to have you beat
in self destruction, self pity and defeat,
it’s almost bittersweet.
But you get by, it’s you not I,
you get by with a plan to only die.
Yes you get by, with any chance to cry,
never noticing another’s sigh.

You know with all the licks you’ve been taking,
we’re both surprised that you’re still waking.
Oh and with the hits you’ll keep taking,
don’t be surprised that you’re still shaking.

Let’s get straight to the root of the problem,
slam our heads together; we’ll forget if not solve them.
So what’s your story you’ve got for me today?

I am no stranger to your sad tales,
though you push them right off the rails,
and my own attempt is exempt and always fails,
I’d have better luck pitching them as sales.
As you’d get by, just for a high,
only to try with your plan to die.
Yes you get by, it’s always you not I,
claiming life’s got you in it’s eye.

You know with all the kicks you’ve been taking,
it’s a wonder you’re still not breaking.
Oh and all the tricks you’ve been making,
are you shocked we think you’re faking?

Let’s get straight to the root of the problem,
you act the saint and cast I as the goblin.
So what’s your story, exaggerated allegory, today?
Let’s cut right to the root of the issue,
my hands are full but do you need a tissue?
I’ll say sorry, just ignore me and what I have to say.

So open up the bursting flood gate
direct the flow to where I seem to wait,
it’s truly my ears that suffer the most,
I abandoned thought not my post, though I now am late.
But you get by, and still yet defy
magnify on your plans to die.
You’ll always get by, call it a lie,
focusing on rain ignoring you’re dry.

Oh with all the trips you’ve been taking,
It’s no surprise you’ve been strongly flaking.
And with the drips and the lies that have been caking,
you can’t comprehend anyone else aching.

So let’s get straight to the root of the problem,
I’ll start a list and another separate column.
So what’s your story, for attention or glory today?
Let’s cut right to the root of the issue,
hands on your neck and checking your wrist too,
it’s mandatory and obligatory, but morally grey.

I want to tell you that I love you
but it feels almost insulting to us,
as we have discovered a feeling
that is new and uncharted;
something that far surpasses
the conventional and widely known
concept and notion of just “love.”
We have created a new word,
a new feeling, a new experience,
a new connection,
a new world that’s all our own.

The word love;
it just doesn’t do this justice,
as when I first met you I realized
the reason the sun rises and sets.
It rises to compete with your beauty,
your natural radiance, your light
and your warmth.
When it sets, it gives up;
desperately craving rest as it
spent many hours trying to outshine you, which nothing in this world could ever hope to do.
At very best it could try to match your breathtaking sight,
but still it sets every single day, because it could never even come close to your effortless luminescence.
My darling, you have exhausted the sun,
a basic necessity for all life to grow,
and the centre of our known universe.
But to me, you are what causes growth, you sustain all life,
and you have me spinning in circles
in your gravitational pull;
twenty-four seven, three sixty-five.

It sounds cliche,
but the moment I saw you everything both stopped and started.
My heart stopped,
my breath stopped,
even time stopped.
But my soul was birthed,
my mind was resurrected
and then, my heart was revived.
Within a split second I felt everything; all at once.
Everything in this world suddenly made sense,
I found the puzzle piece to the incomplete picture I had decided to settle with,
I discovered an ***** I never knew existed, but now that ***** is so vital, I could never live without it.
I became a new person that day:
I was finally made complete.
I never knew what happiness was,
but that day I basked in.
I inhaled as much as I could,
even if it would drown me,
because I was absolutely terrified
and paralyzed with the fear
that I would never know that feeling again.

You’re my first thought when I awake,
picking up where I left off the night before,
and you sneak your way into my head all throughout the day.
No matter how close you are to me,
you will always be too far.
It’s frustrating to have two hearts and two souls so intertwined and locked,
that the barrier of our bodies almost feel like a nuisance
as they create a thin wall separating them from meeting
and melting together as they should.

If I could list off my biggest accomplishment,
it would be any time I was the provider of your smile.
If I could list off my favourite hobby,
it would be the times I make you laugh.
If I could do one thing
and only one thing for the entirety of my life,
it would be to look into your eyes
and listen to your sweet voice;
it always leaves me so intoxicated.
And if I was given the choice;
see you hurt or be gun down with a barrage of bullets;
I would tell the firing squad to start loading their guns.
I would die for you; without hesitation.
But the more impressive thing,
I think, is that I live for you,
even though it hurts so badly some days.
Pain goes hand in hand with love,
but it is also tantamount to it.

So you see, I want to tell you that I love you,
every single second of every single day for the rest of my life,
but the words are just words,
and no words, no matter how descriptive or beautiful or powerful,
could ever fully articulate what I feel.
Just know that I am yours,
even when you doubt that I am.

I wonder when you see me,
do you see the darkness that is seeping,
or do you find the spark to fight off your shadows?
And when your hand's in mine,
do you feel we intertwine,
or do you feel your clutching a weapon for battle?

Do your lips feel incomplete,
when mine aren't there to meet,
like we're two perfect puzzle pieces?
Do you miss me when I'm not around,
even though I don't make much sound,
or do you feel the silence is blissful sweetness?

My love, I named a star for you,
and it's the only thing I see in the sky.
It shines through black and blue,
it's so close but just too high.
I'd live on the empty moon forever,
just so we could be closer together.

I wonder when I cross your mind,
do you go deaf and blind,
or do you feel every sense you own?
And when my words hit your ears,
are you brought to tears,
or is that something you've outgrown?

And if I'm being too sappy,
you can say, cause I feel the same,
but it's been so long since I've felt happy,
and I don't know where to place the blame.

When our eyes connect, does time lose retrospect,
or do you stare right through a ghost?
And when you reach out to touch,
do you stop because it's too much,
or because it's what you want most?

My love, I named a star for you,
but you became my galaxy.
Into a supernova you grew,
and you became all I could ever see.
I'd live on the empty moon forever,
just so we could be closer together.

Why do me the courtesy
of meeting me half way?
Unleashing your opinions of me,
putting fears to rest and keeping pain at bay.
You might aswell just ****** me,
this game I never signed up to play,
yet still I’m screaming it out internally
but it’s not my place to say.
I guess I’ll keep quiet for another day.

I keep a cloth by the door
to not let the cold breeze in,
but I'm a tornado living on the floor,
just waiting for the winds to begin.
Causing chaos and destruction,
wherever it is I choose to go,
battling a volcanic eruption
and tossing around the piles of snow.

I'll tear apart your home and family,
I'll toss around the life you live,
I'll admit it was never my plan, you see
but scorched earth is all I have to give.

No weather man or meteorologist
can give you warning about my arrival,
with all I wreck I ask "what's the cost of this,
when it's competing with my survival?"
I was once only a rain cloud,
then one day I became a storm,
my transformation never made me proud,
but my strength and power did keep it's form.

I thrive off the ice cracking,
under my heavy feet.
I'm beyond hunting or tracking,
I'm left here only to compete.
Each breath you exhale with cold air
is just my form of a sweet kiss.
Everytime, no fail, I'll be there,
I'll never be something you miss.

I'll tear apart the world as you know it,
I'll toss around the life you live,
I swear I have a heart I just don't show it,
'cause scorched earth is all I have to give.

When the winter winds grow cold,
I might turn to ice, I haven't made up my mind.
With a soul of mold and body of Christ,
you'll see that you've turned snow blind.
Silent nights and transparent stars,
it's all backdrop to my catastrophe.
When I whip on by I'll leave you with scars
and claim it's just a sweet memory.

I'll strip you down until the bone,
I'll take away the life that you live,
the trees and green grass is just a loan,
as scorched earth is all I have to give.

She is the sea, her waves crashing on the rocks,
slowly washing over me, drenching right down to my socks.
Providing life's true source, well, if it wasn't for her salt,
swirling on with no remorse but it's really not her fault.

She is the sky, both the day and the night,
up impossibly high and such a breath taking sight.
While the clouds can cover sun, the horizon will still stay clear,
and I pray that I'm the one that she'll always be near.

Oh, I live for her, and she gives me the will,
but I would still prefer for our world to stay still.

She is the air, invisibly filling up my lung,
standing up each and every hair, and tingling on my tongue.
Breathing in can revive a person once marked for dead,
she is keeping me alive by simply filling up my head.

Oh, I live for her, and she gives my life thrill,
but I would still prefer for our world to stay still.

She is the mountain, both rocky and very steep,
housing the sheep that I've lost count in while missing out on sleep.
Outlining my sight and enhancing beauty in my world,
and when we lay together at night, her curves fit into mine curled.

Oh, I live for her, and she's my red pill,
but I would still prefer for our world to stay still.

I have never considered myself weak.
Physically, I have nothing to fear,
I believe myself capable of defending myself from any violent attack that may ever come.
Believing in your own strength is half the battle, after all.
I also rest on the assurance that I will die fighting if need be,
where not many would risk that chance, or persist to have to ****** someone.
I will die on my feet, I will die fighting,
I am afraid of nothing that can hurt my skin.

But,
and there always is a but,
I am terrified of that which can hurt me internally.
You can’t fight feelings,
you can’t hold your own against
love, or sadness, anger or betrayal.
I loathe being vulnerable,
especially when no one attempts to convince you there’s nothing to be afraid of.
Atleast they haven’t lied about that.

I have had women who have left me abandoned in glass boxes,
who have turned on a tap and let the water flow and fill up the space,
promising me they would return when the water touched my chin.
Acting as if it was an a show of affection, providing me with a warm bath to soothe my soul.
But they’ve left, I drowned,
and once discovered, not one could bother to administer CPR.
They gave no condolences to what family I have left,
nor show up to the funeral,
they did not even shed one tear.

But yet, years later they seek out my headstone,
hesitating at the wrong plot because they couldn’t bother to learn the correct spelling of my name.
But they would dig me up, pry open my coffin,
and gently part my decomposed eyelids so they had someone’s eyes staring only at them.

If you **** someone,
atleast have the decency,
to let them rot in peace.

I’m lying beside my girl in bed
I brush my lips against her ear;
“Baby if the world was to end,
there’s nowhere I’d rather be then here.”
Safe and warm as if in a nest
bodies formed like puzzle pieces,
she’s got her head pressed to my chest
heart pounding and it increases.

In my arms; my world and my plans
when you have my heart in your hands.
Always like this, always together
with your kiss of bliss, you’ll be my air forever.

I’ve never been one to greet sunrise
I much prefer the still quiet of night,
but as long as I can look into your eyes
you’ll forever remain my favorite light.
Our laughter combines
and creates a symphony,
a perfect meshing of minds
and souls completed perfectly.

In my arms; all that I ever sought
when you own my words and every thought.
Always like this, always together
with your kiss of bliss, it can’t get better.

In my arms; my world and my plans
when you have my heart in your hands.
Always like this, always together
with your kiss of bliss, you’ll be my air forever.

I'm going to excersize my voice,
and spill to you some hard truth,
to tell whoever reads you have a choice,
in shaping tomorrow's youth.
With a tragedy flashing on a TV screen,
telling you how to think and feel,
you should ask yourself what does it all mean,
and question if what you hear is real.

False flag operations have been suggested
and got a green light many years ago.
There's been a few that have been successfully tested,
then broadcasted and produced like a giant show.
I'm not saying school shootings don't happen,
but please look between the lines,
they've now released the cracken,
and we've missed the warning signs.

It's not video games, television or Hollywood,
that take the blame in a violent crime
I've played call of duty and love entertainment when it's good,
and I'd never take a life, I'd rather give mine.
It is true the access to guns are too easy,
for those who believe it is the only way,
but they need help, believe me,
and treatment is a big price to pay.

If you wish to throw away every gun,
then throw away cars, gasoline and knives,
because when someone has come undone,
you can use all three to take seventeen lives.

No child, criminal or soul with malicious intent,
should be able to stroll into a store and say "that one will do fine"
But they're ringing up the price and the money spent,
is just enough to blur each single line.
But what about if and when the time comes,
those in power decide rations are too low,
and they'll grab you and chain you, no matter where you're from,
and decide it's time for you to go?

An armed ninety-nine percent,
is more a threat to them than terror,
so they use tragedy to receive consent,
to fix the constitution's error.
Where it states you have a right to protect yourself,
no matter who it is that knocks on your door,
'cause that knock will come and you'll look for help,
but there won't be help there anymore.

They only want weapons in their own hand,
and we'll be left completely defenseless,
it's common logic so please understand,
you don't want to get caught completely senseless.

Take their paycheques and put it into mental health,
for those kids who think this is the only way,
so they can be taught ways to cope instead of a politician's wealth,
because it will keep happening until they get their day.

I mourn for those who lost those they love,
but don't let emotion override logic.
We all want to fly a flag of a peace dove,
but there'll still be a bullet and you can't dodge it.

The media doesn't run stories for over a week,
unless it's something they really want you to hear.
And they plan the next one to advertise as we speak,
and the tag line will alway be fear.

Do not waste one of the best gifts we received,
a human's ability to question every action.
Look beyond the way it is perceived,
and research history and every faction.
If it's someone's job to prioritize our rights,
don't you think they might have a control issue?
That maybe they don't want a herd that fights,
and instead of a weapon holds a tissue?

First level was simple denial,
I argued with myself for awhile,
counted each and every bathroom tile
while I waited until sedated so that I could smile.

I felt the anger twinge inside myself,
I cursed all the time spent seeking wealth,
and bathed in loathing for my careless lack of health,
and my inability to ever ask for much needed help.

They say no one is ever ready to die
and there's always regrets when you go,
but when my number's up I won't try
I won't fight; I'll have no punches to throw.
Five stages and seven hells,
turn the pages and hope it sells.

Next was bargaining but I had nothing to give,
no reason to be here, no reason left to live,
but I took my chance on a lie a and fib,
and offered up my heart along with a shred of rib.

Every layer always gets warmer,
until it surely burns your skin,
you'll find the next is worse than the former,
is this the punishment for sin?

They say no one is ever ready to die
and there's always regrets when you go,
but to say life is short would be a lie,
'cause some of us just feel it's too slow.
Five stages and seven hells,
open the cages and ring the bells.

Depression walked in like an old friend,
it was no big change, there was no letter to send.
I realized I was defective with no chance to mend,
my spine officially broken even though I didn't bend.

Then acceptance finally washed over me,
with a conclusion some things are just not meant to be,
I didn't bow my head or fall on one knee,
words can't describe that feeling of being free.

They say no one is ever ready to die
and there's always regrets when you go,
I hope to find a comfortable home in the sky,
or atleast in soil for something else to grow.
Five stages and seven hells,
I'll live through the ages, constantly shedding my shells.

Seems I like dark deception
and the odd manipulative game,
I question quality of reflection
as each shares the same.
And it seemed like love
until I’ve finally had enough.

I tie up my own two feet
and put my hands straight to shackle,
and while the imprisonment is sweet
there’s too much bitterness to tackle.
And it seemed like love
until the rose tint got scuffed.

She shook the flowers from her hair
and my fingers were cut from the thorns of the tangles.
I thought there were a million clear signs there
I took the time to find each direction, possibilities and angles.
Did I demonize a saint?
or did I give a monster wings?
The image is up for perception, not the paint,
and the same song is different depending on who sings.

Seems I attract words of blades
and metaphorical slaps in the face,
deciphering shadows into different shades
and ranking them last to first place.
And I wanted it to be love,
but it was lower when I thought it above.

I see false inflated importance
or I see nothing at all.
With black and white I took a grey stance,
but my planted feet kept me from standing tall.
An empty home with a closing wall.

Seems I like dark deception
and the odd manipulative game,
I convince myself it’s forms of affection,
so it’s only I to blame.
And it seemed like love,
but I chose the noose instead of my glove.

I speak inside my brain
and then my heart replies.
I've lived my life as the rain
falling down from the vacant skies.
I told you that I loved you
and truer words were never spoken,
but how much can one person do,
when paradise is broken?

I turn my back on memories
but they still slap me in the face,
the emotions get the best of me
when I'm standing in the wrong place.
I told you that I'd keep you dry
even though I myself was soakin'
but how hard can one person try
when paradise is broken?

The pastel colours were fake,
except the black and white,
I shaded it all for the sake
it was not pleasing to my sight.
In every single dream I drown,
I always give up on that fight,
until I'm buried in the ground
I'll dream that struggle every night.

Heaven is over occupied
they stopped letting just any folk in,
and purgatory is mystified
'cause paradise is broken.

I long for the free birds
with their hazardous flapping wing
and the way they spin their words
into gentle songs we sing.
I told you I was missing my mind
I just could never rope it in,
how much can one person find
when paradise is broken.

The pastel colours were fake,
except for the black and white,
I needed the blue for a lake,
and the red for the ****** fight.
In every dream I'm alone,
I try to change that with all my might,
you spoke aloud in a wrong tone
but atleast the words were right.

Heaven is over occupied
I wish I never had woken,
and Hell is now justified
cause paradise is broken.

You own; each beat from my chest, both lungs and every breath,
what I have and all the rest,
my life until my death.

We sat upon our hands
and watched the world go by.
Counted the seas and lands,
measured from ground to sky.
The ownership was not fair,
potential to be a billionaire,
without setting up a trust
gold can't stay but can it rust?

Life grows from a seed,
we take inventory and stock.
It's more than you'll need,
who sold the last free rock?

They plant a waving flag,
and make the ground their own,
they saw those who held just a rag,
and told them it was now on loan.
When will they tax the air?
Potential to be a billionaire,
who even signed the deed,
to sell the world for greed?

Both money and tree;
they share a shade of green.
This world should be free,
who sold the last free scene?

We sat upon our hands,
and watched the world go by.
Raked in the dollars from sands,
and made money by making trees die.
We did nothing but stare,
potential to be a billionaire,
who even decided the price,
and then doubled it twice?

Now borders and walls,
on lands we all should own.
Tax lakes and waterfalls,
and see how their stock's grown.

The sun and the moon; two halves of one,
perfection and ruin, both towards and away you run.
The light and the dark; a balance to complete,
spotless save for a mark, not every goodbye is sweet.

They say you can't **** the future,
it's the future that ***** you.
Not every wound needs a suture,
some things are destined to bleed through.
I'll reveal every reason, a list to only create pain,
it's the end of the season so let's feel the August rain.

The ground and the sky together they create a world,
laughing while you cry, emotions always seem swirled.
The bright and the black; a balance to complete,
a code you can't crack, a win that feels of defeat.

They say you should never waste a day,
because there just might not be a tomorrow.
Not every instinct can be held at bay,
some lives are destined to bathe in sorrow.
I'll treasure every thing about her, she's the one to keep me sane,
but it's the end of the summer so let's enjoy the August rain.

The heat and the cold, they so beautifully compliment,
the young and the old, the strength of detriment.
The colours and the grey, they exist altogether,
but nothing gold can stay and nothing good lasts forever.

Nothing is perfect in this world,
but there's always a balance of symmetry,
the only thing Holy is my girl,
and a prayer was answered when she chose me.
So let's usher the cold harsh breeze in,
and lets feel the heat slowly drain,
'cause it's the end of the season,
so keep me warm in the August rain.

I’m the only one with dirt on my hands,
I’ve been crossing my fingers and snapping rubber bands.
And the fragments and pieces build into a story,
I transformed it to a thesis; the quality’s too low for me,
and I never set my expectations too high,
as should I, a lack of truth and abundance of lie.
My oh my and by the by.

There’s cracks in my ceiling and head,
there’s splinters in my skin and my bed,
there’s poison in the words I was fed.

I’m the only one missing pressure on my shoulders,
replaced the gentle weight with two heavy boulders.
I was wishing on satellites thinking they were stars,
breaking free from embraces thinking they were bars,
admiring fireflies not realizing they were cars
but I’m painfully aware of my own
scars.
I’m holding open seminars
to these memoirs of ours.

There’s cracks in my ceiling and shell,
there’s craters in my heart where I fell,
there’s holes in each story you tell.

You’ve got 99 problems but your loyalty is one,
you’ll never solve them now the World Cup is done.
Achieved by your colours that aren’t so true,
by a Nation that once treasured you.
Gretzky I believe your reign is through.

You used to shoot and inevitably you’d score,
imagine the disappointment of each Gord.
Keep the red and white but add the blue,
betray a Nation that once treasured you.
Gretzky; no longer number one not even two.

Keep your guns and keep your hate,
Canada’s not your fifty-first state.
We’ve always been a Country, one that’s great.

Went to a room and ignored the sign,
now we’ve changed the labels and removed your wine.
Disappointed in what you would do,
to a National that once treasured you.
The sadness and anger only grew.

An apology that will come too late,
Canada will never be your fifty-first state.
Not up for discussion or debate.

A concept you should understand,
you can’t put a “for sale” sign on our land.
The death of a legend came from the hands
of a bad man and a bad plan.
No longer the greatest of all time
after you’ve committed the greatest of crimes.

We won’t take the tariffs or the bait,
Canada will never be your fifty first state.
We’ll cement the actions and the date.

So stay in exile as is it your fate,
Canada won’t be your fifty first state,
cause it’s the one, the one that’s great.