"I had this pretty painting 
Filled it with her smile & roses,

Thought I could read her like a story book 
I was wrong to imagine it wasn’t real
,
All her story’s laughs & giggles filled my painting with beauty,
She was all in my head did think that she didn’t feel what she said,
My painting became dark & gloomy 
I was alone after I shared my thoughts,

Couldn’t control my brush so angry,
for expressing my empty thought,
I wasn’t in love with her at all,
She was afraid to let me in so was I
being to protective of my walls
,
But I can’t lie I’d smile every time she would smile,

That’s all I wanted in my painting 

I started my painting with her happy thoughts her lyrics her smile,

But she couldn’t see me beautiful as the moon & stars at night,

She couldn’t see pass the broken heart that she carries,

She couldn’t see me,

She made me feel nothing,

So I walked away 
packed my brushes and paints
,
Stood up to see if she would hold me down & say what would calm me down,
I needed a friend in this world to see the beauty in me,

But she didn’t say a word 
So I walked away,
with my beautiful honest clear painting,

Smiling for I knew she we’ll find her own other & be happy, 

My beautiful glorious painting,

I’m burning the painting now.."

Seven stars in the still water,
And seven in the sky;
Seven sins on the King’s daughter,
Deep in her soul to lie.

Red roses are at her feet,
(Roses are red in her red-gold hair)
And O where her ***** and girdle meet
Red roses are hidden there.

Fair is the knight who lieth slain
Amid the rush and reed,
See the lean fishes that are fain
Upon dead men to feed.

Sweet is the page that lieth there,
(Cloth of gold is goodly prey,)
See the black ravens in the air,
Black, O black as the night are they.

What do they there so stark and dead?
(There is blood upon her hand)
Why are the lilies flecked with red?
(There is blood on the river sand.)

There are two that ride from the south and east,
And two from the north and west,
For the black raven a goodly feast,
For the King’s daughter rest.

There is one man who loves her true,
(Red, O red, is the stain of gore!)
He hath duggen a grave by the darksome yew,
(One grave will do for four.)

No moon in the still heaven,
In the black water none,
The sins on her soul are seven,
The sin upon his is one.

sad people
always try and
make other
people happy

because they
know how
terrible it is
to feel worthless

the sad truth is
so many people are in love and
not together

and

so many people are together
and not in love