Look beyond that deceiving smile, underneath that soft heart are words that'll rip you up like a crocodile chomping down on it's prey. You better pray that something happens to you to make you realize, otherwise, when that disguise comes off, you'll see the demon in her eyes. Slayer. Man killer. Heart ripper. Under any weather, ******* heart is made of leather. So don't sweat her.

I worry when I see girls that chew gum like ******,
the bubbles are as pink as their cheeks
before applying blush. Then, I see their fathers memorize
them just in time
because when they grow up, girls leave everyone.
We are sunlight pressing our ******* against moonlight
so close,
     we no longer need our heart-shaped sunglasses.

Heavy eyes, it's getting too late
twenty more minutes and I'll be awake
I just remembered and just in time
what we're working towards, why I drew the line
every once in a while, it's less easy than now
I don't see anyone, but I can see how
a carefully worded sigh with you so far
would find a place and make this all hard

I don't know if lips other than yours would
but some nights I think they could
steal a tremble along my spine
and dreaming and doing is such a fine line
every once in a while it's less easy than now
I don't see anyone, but I can see how
a carefully worded sigh with you so far
would find a place and make this all hard

a new flag parked into the moon
a knife parked into the neck
the way eye-***** dart when stimulated
life poured out from the body where the
world creeps, away, into its own place
and the names we have been given
go.

I lay on my bed and look up at the ceiling fan spin in circles
Around and around and around and around
And somewhere it could be raining
Maybe a block away
Or maybe a mile away
There are girls who splash in the puddles and track mud through their houses and get the couch wet and take hot showers and watch the rain drops racing down the window
I want to be the girl to dance in the rain
But instead I'm the girl who lays on her bed watching the ceiling fan

It's said that the eyes,
are the gateway to the soul
your eyes piercing
right through me.
Like shredded glass
the stains penetrate mine.

Those emerald eyes, oceans
of green fire - do they
always flicker, am I one of
few that can keep them alight?
Or are they mine and yours,
alone?

Can I put them in a chest?
Or stare into them forever,
so time steadily slows down
and for few seconds



Peace...