We chase our dreams down highways
we look for them in eyes and words
But aren't we all just silly fools
trying to fix what hurts

Droplets pounding on the roof,
wind clawing at the trees,
the lightning lighting up the night,
will never end it seems.

Streetlights drowning in the water,
thunder tearing through the
sky, what a tragedy must happen,
to make the heavens cry.

I'm just skipping rocks
hoping you're not the only chance
I will ever have,
because I tried so hard
to love you.
Like a box without
a key
or a riddle that has
no answer,
I feel like I am searching mountaintops
for fossils.
Like I am searching within me
but there is nothing,
another rock for the riverbed,
but there is nothing.

(You found yourself standing
at the edge of the sea
Shivering white like a spirit
you beckoned to me)

I've never been to the sea,
or seen a ghost,
but I've held you in my arms and I've
felt all your bones

Your lips full of sorrow, your
ribs cracked in pain,
I followed the wind and found
you here once again.

I stood on the sand, and
gave you my plea,
but I yelled and I screamed and
you still couldn't hear me.

Then I watched you slip farther,
and belong to the sea,
I wish you knew that cold water
won't set you free

.
•    
re-
     kindle
    the spark
   that governed
    this game•the fire
  that once burnt as bri-
  ght as sun•all of this once
before, had a name•but now
is weak from the time it had be-
gun•there was a time when it wo-
uld consume•......it would defy the
odds....just so it could burn as one•
frantic and desperate for the magic
to resume•uncertainty has carved
itself into the heart that has come
undone•winds bearing ill no-
tions revealed as the enemy•
stitch up the gaps keep-
ing out the rogue
gust•
  pro
tect
  the
light that burns ever weakly•rejuve-
nate the spirit that harbours broken trust
•rekindle me now... i'm still in the game•
the heart                   save the     you will
isn't                              candle           need
ready                           and              to see
to make                         nur-              me    
sense                            ture             with
of the                             it                 this
dark•                             to                  in-  
                                    fla-              sig-  
                                   me•             nia
                                     ­                     as my
                                                         mark
                                                         •
.

The lost lovers are gone.
The outside world is nothing but mist,
dissolved with each damp breath,
and blurred out like a face in a photograph.

It must be better to be alone.
One can stand ignorant and unburdened,
like an oak tree in an empty field,
unaware of the space surrounding it.