in the night she rides
weaving back and forth between clouds;
clutching on to daydreams
while bouncing from star to star.

the galaxy is where she's born,
in a soft layer between what's real,
and what's not;
in a place where magic seems to fit-
and the questions of logic,
do not.

in the sweep of the night she rides,
protesting gravity-
holding on to air
while flying faster than light;
she's a believer in all things right,
she's a warrior of the night,
holding on to daydreams
in the sweep of the night.

I feel like maybe...
I just get bored.
If it doesn't get mixed up like a mixed tape-
Wait,
Nobody listens to mixed tapes anymore.

Maybe it's the unknowing?
The nail biting edge to a horror flick?
The moment right before you jump?
Maybe if it's not like that then...

There's a hundred ways to keep me entertained,
But I also like to be the entertainer-
I mean,
I am the person who will tell the story the long way
Or drive a different way home for a change of direction.
I don't really like shortcuts;
Unless  it's for a computer program,
And even then I'll take the long way.

I think I like the challenge.
There's something about pushing every bit-
Holding my breath until I burst for air-
Filling the cup until its about to overfill...
I mean,
I like details-
but I hate oil paints-
And I like little forks-
But prefer a bigger spoon-
And if you were to ask me my favorite song...
I wouldn't have one-
Because it changes too much.

I think my mind just races
And it's not a marathon because their is no winner
This is more like a treadmill-
It keeps you in the same spot but you somehow make progress
It's like a moment when your about to kiss
for the very first time-
scared as hell that its not right;
But wanting so badly for it to be perfect...
The chemistry,
The make up,
The right timing...
That's the way I see the world.
Just sometimes,
I get bored.

I manipulated hearts today-
Without guilt I was in control
and it felt good.

With my own hands
I cut them,
With my own hands
I felt them,
With my own imagination
I twisted them until they fit just right.
Just like placing stars in
the magic of the night.

I cut out paper hearts today,
Twenty four of them.
It all seemed perfect,
One heart for every hour-
In a day,
That we're apart.

I moved them,
The hearts,
And shaped them-
And spread them apart,
Like time zones between here,
And Australia.

If only there wasn't a time zone bewteen us,
If only there wasn't your destiny and mine-
If somehow these hearts could beat together;
The rhythm to a love song-
But they cannot...

They're paper thin
hoping to win,
The hands of someone
to hold them.