crying babies
naked ladies
car payments
make it all stop

crying babies
naked ladies
I’m on top of the building
Maybe I should walk

crying babies
naked ladies
She wrote her number down and gave me a wink
A night with her or food for the week

crying babies
naked ladies
dumb girls running away from home, running from the love
their mothers unsure of what they’re dreaming of

crying babies
naked ladies
the table set, the stove is humming
we sit laughing, the little ones come running

crying babies and naked ladies
and toothless smiles and tear-filled grins
and broken glass and broken bones
this place is hell but this place is home

I sat for a moment and dreamt of you
Dreamt of talking until the Sun came up
Dreamt of asking you what you were thinking of
Hoped that you wouldn’t catch me staring
Hoped that you couldn’t see my chest flaring
Wished that we never had to move
Wished that we could run and go far away
Picturing you and me
Picturing me falling under the spell of you
What fun it would be, the things we’d do
The memories we’d have, the things we’d see
The places we’d go, the people we’d be
I sat for a moment and dreamt of you
All the things we’d never do

Lightning and rain, I'm thinking about you again.
Lightning and rain, the thought of not being able to hold you drives me insane.
Thunder and clouds, my heart yelling at me in anger so loud.
Thunder and clouds, just you saying my name is a beautiful sound.
The darkness and wind, I dream everyday of what life will be like when we're together again.
The darkness and wind, you biting my lip, our eyes meet and we both just grin.
The puddles and sun, our bodies and minds are becoming one.
The puddles and sun, I can imagine no greater joy,
I have you, I've won.

Here is a letter to you,
I’m sorry it’s been awhile, I've had things to do
I've had people to see
and things to eat
places to go
and deadlines to meet
things to watch
songs to sing
dances to dance
chances to take
and mistakes to make
things to be said
and hearts to break
minds to swirl
and brains to quit
tears to wipe away
I’m sick of this ****
I’m lost and confused, dreading and feeling blue
So I thought I’d write this letter to you
because maybe,
just maybe,
you’d know what to do

it's times like these
when people like me
reflect, dream and miss
who we used to be

I met a girl
she reminded me of you
except she wasn’t as pretty
she didn’t say things the way you do
she wasn’t as kind
she didn’t make funny faces when we spoke
she wasn’t as caring
she didn’t even like my jokes
she wasn’t as cute
she didn’t call to say she missed me
she wasn't as funny
she didn't want what you and I could be
she wasn't like you at all
and no other girl will be
and that's because you love me
and I love every little thing that you do
and that's because
there's no one like you

The girl with the gleaming green eyes
The girl with the slender smooth thighs
The girl with the bright white smile
The girl with the shimmering silk hair
The girl who is miles apart, I don't care

I love her

The girl who cared cautiously  
The girl with the sweet soothing tone
The girl who I would walk home
The girl who says so little and makes me grin
The girl whose love I had to win
My girl

I ran and I walked
I think but don’t talk
I ran and I walked
Skipped and I hopped
I came across her there
So I stopped and I stared
Her body, her mind, a beauty
A goddess divine
I ran and I walked
I stopped and I stared
Suddenly I realized
I never cared

Stop to smell the roses, it simply is the best.
Stop to smell the roses, especially when they’re dead.
For a dead rose is a rose nonetheless, and everyone knows a dead rose is a rose that’s best.
A dead rose is the remainder from a life of beauty and admiration.
Unfortunately, a dead rose is not associated with any such sensations.
Nobody wants dead roses.
There is no point if they cease to be beautiful, everyone knows this
You ask, but why? Does anyone care to explain?
What makes them different but physical appearance?
Despite texture and hue are they not the same?
No, no they are not.
A dead rose is worth so much more.
For a dead rose contains a lesson to be learned.
A lesson specifically pertaining to you, a lesson to be discovered in the way you breathe, live, love and in everything that you do.