i'm spending tonight as a ghost,
hovering over your bed,
oh i love you the most,
and we're both dead.
i'll sink into your thought,
into the corners of your mind,
on the edges i'll get caught,
and between your dreams i will grind.
my fingers like smoke,
will fill your skull,
and crack it like yolk,
and it's me, you'll mull.

i've been told that love
        is a cage binding you,
a trap held
        deep beneath your heart,
restricting your
         fragile bones,
and suddenly everything
          disappears
and suddenly everything
          is broken

and you
*don't know what hit you.

if only time
could rewind
maybe i'd
be fully
recovered
from the
amount
of trauma
sustained
along
the
way

let's go to a coffee shop.
pour out our secrets
and let them blow away with the wind,
finding you a year later
when you sit down again.

forget about that week before you left.
when you lost all hope,
and we stopped being friends.

forget about the time when you came back,
and kissed her in front of me,
over and over again.

forget about
whatever happened to us,
because I still miss you.
And even though you don't want to
I can see in your eyes that you do
and that you're sorry.

Even though you don't want to,
let's sit down and pretend
that nothings changed.
That you were still that sweet boy
who spent a whole month
trying to make me happy again
after I fell apart.

Let us go back
to sitting in coffee shops,
teasing each other
while listening
to bad poetry.

Crawl out of that shell
you've run away to
so that we can go back
to being friends.

in Scotland fair you must beware
the weathered moor at night
For it is said a thing of dread
hunts neath it's pale moon light

It's small and stout and loves to shout
and scare the tiny mice
It kicks the trees to wake the bees
because it is not nice

it runs amok through herd and flock
and makes the chickens fly
Then opens gates and shakes lose slates
and takes pigs from the sty

It up roots crops and spills the hops
and dances in the flour
Though rarely seen its really mean
and turns the fresh milk sour

It squashes flat each butter pat
and mixers wheat with grain
then ups and screams to spoil your dreams
and runs away again

The Haggis see is wild and free
and likes to cause such fun
Breaks traps and snares and frees the hares
and helps them to their run

The hunting hound that sniffs the ground
Will never find his scent
because he sweats sweet Vi-o-lets
to cover where he went

The Heathered moor and rains that pour
wash away his tracks
and he's not scared he is prepared
for haggis run in packs

With teeth and claws and snapping jaws
they are a sight to see
So think before you seek that moor
where they run wild and free