I'm sorry dad, I'm sorry mum,
For these things that I do wrong.
For every smile that I can't give,
This little life that I can't live.
If you could look, through my two eyes,
Then I pray that you'd see why,
The sun will rise when I'm gone.

And when time will pass, and love will fade,
And these little things will all wash away,
I'll call home.

But this ain't goodbye, I'm still your son,
It's just these feet, they plead to run.
Through that sand, 'cross that sea,
Somewhere far away from me.
Where I can sleep amongst the stars,
Open oceans, and empty cars.
Dreams of swimming, on my own.

And when time will pass, and love will fade,
And these pretty things will all wash away,
I'll call home.

For then I'll be, sincerely me,
For like the tide my soul is free.
Salty skin, sun dried hair,
Lungs to breath that morning air.
That eucalyptus in the sky,
As laughing birds begin to cry.
And sunlight sings inside my bones.

And when time will pass, and love will fade,
And these pretty things will all wash away,
I'll call home.

There must be something out there left for me, in a world of star strung buildings and charcoal trees; maybe it's been lost in the breeze? Well, the night's gone grey and time has refused to change, so I'm waiting on eternity to bring me age; whilst i strut and fret this hour upon the stage.

There must be somewhere out there left for me, where moonshine melts into valleys of golden green; but the hills have eyes and they're all watching me. So I've been waiting on ashen shrouds to clear that sky, for rolling waves of blue upon open eyes; maybe we're all waiting for that light?

Well I've wandered moonlit streets for a little while, slept in a blanket of stars that made me smile; but pretty faces seldom last a while.

When, she sings
And suddenly, daylight
Pours from her voice;
Like waterfalls

A rainforest
Inside my head
Dancing wildly, to
Songs of Spring

Even the fish
Leap in laughter
Blue birds circling
Inside my head

Endless hours.                                          
Dripping,       ­       
    Dripping -
                            as reverb hums
         lonely guitar strums
echoing through eyelids        
and ****** eardrums                               
  as a thought                              
still runs          
to
              morrow.

Like flint                                            
striking                
      steel,
                                     upon some
                                          cold              ­              
                   november              
night,              
Your eyes                                    
     ignite            
                     passion.    
            in
     the
furnace      
of my soul -                        
But even the brightest                                
    of sparks,                                    
             will seldom                           
   see,        
               the.    
                                  morning.

If there is just one little thing
that you've made me realise,
It's that sometimes skin
can be warmer
than the sun,
That cheeks
can hold more fire
than a galaxy of stars,
And that when I grow up,
I want to be, an astronaught.