He looks at him
With envious eyes
It's as if he asks himself why

He asks himself where is the love he had
He asks himself when will he find love

And he looked down
And fell his tears to the ground

He'd been closing more doors
than the ones they'd agreed,

so she emptied the drawers
and she readied to leave,

when he asked her for why
she said look at that sky,

that's the breathing space
my lifetime needs.

DO I, DO I, DO I
Have to listen to what
everyone says, at-least to
capture an idea. I've heard
of tedious reviewing, but
can it be raw. Can it dare
to be something other than
structured. Concise is one thing,
but is stress another. If I were
to free-flow like the rest
of the world, would it be bad?
You may say it's trash. But are children's books
the same to a certain degree. May it be long,
may it be short, may it be?
Why must there be an end, when your mind certainly
doesn't, or would you rather talk
of death.

Sitting, waiting, breathing
wanting someone to understand
Where am I?
What does this mean?
Realizing things over and over,
I wish there was something else
These thoughts are overwhelming me
I feel so alone
Cold

Can anybody hear me?
I'm here
I'm here

Clawing at your back
I peel away the suit
Let's be real
together...

I'm scared
without you, I feel like I'm walking without my senses
Is this what you wanted?
Keep going back, you're facing the wrong way
Look up and be here
with me
Come back

Without me
I'm walking backwards
I'm facing the wrong way
I'm scared
I can't look up
I'm alone
I'm falling
I'm lost
Where do I go from here
Come back, Miranda


Come back..

If you ask me
To come and see
To part the space
Between my knees

If you dare
Touch my hair
With rotten lust
In your eyes gleam

How can i ever
See you the same
When you'd use me
Without even my name

Sick little boy
I need a friend
Dont make this
Into our end