I called you on the phone
But you were dead and all alone
Did you see my name
Are you playing a game
Don’t keep me hanging on

I called you on the phone
But you were dead and all alone
Is this a game
We’re not the same
Dont keep me hanging on

I called you on the phone
But you were dead and all alone
Don’t you understand
I’m a man
Don’t keep me hanging on.

I called you on the phone
But you were dead and all alone
You’ve crossed the line
For the final time
Don’t keep me hanging on.

I called you on the phone
But you were dead and all alone
They told me plain
You’re insane
She's hanging on the phone.

It started on crimson blue
The ocean touching you
Your body free from soul
Inviting colours no
You see his eyes undress, caress
You shy away, tempted
Casual look
He’s watching, like he knows
Colours no
The waves crash
unselfish
pulses flow
Explosion in colour grows
The woman in you, glances
Free from soul
He’s watching, like he knows
Whispering to you
The secret of crimson blue.

Let my lips please you.
Let my tongue
taste the sweetness
of your soft skin,
the glistening petals
of your secret flower.
Let its aroma entice me
as the taste of you
intoxicates me;
hearing you moan
wild rapid gasps
while you beg me
to bring you
to fullness,
as you feel my tongue
penetrate your gates,
as your hips gyrate
and you scream my name
culminating in ecstasy
that fulfills me too
with the pleasure
I have shared with you.

  ~mce

There seems
to be a fatal flaw
in the world's design
that keeps those
who care for each other
separate and at a distance,
sometimes forever.

  ~mce

It was the new way to say goodbye
Simply text

Dear John
It’s over
Don’t cry
Must fly
Time to start anew

And if it doesn’t work out
We know just what to do

Dear Jane
Been thinking about this for a while
It’s your style
Just not for me
Want to start something new
Be seeing you

What the hell
No style
Dear John
Have you gone mad
Are you on the moon
Been thinking for a while
I've got no style

Dear Jane
It’s not all about you
Look at the bigger picture
We can see other people
Now that we’re through

Dear John
I can’t get my head round this
We’ll have to meet up
I’m all in a tiz

Dear Jane
Only if you insist.

He bleeds, for he is weak
Tortured thoughts
He bleeds some more
Preaches to the mild
So reverent in their eyes
Looking down, he sermons
The cross is bearing
Impure thoughts
He bleeds some more
The thoughts get stronger
Penance for the soul
He touches his scars
Sacrificed for his lord
The prayers cleanse
He is pure
Gods chosen one
Standing before his flock
He sermons
They call to him
He sees her
The scars open.