Oh, sweet disposition
We seem to have opposing opinions
On most of your past decisions
Back when we played different positions
In all of our parallel missions
We're trapped within mental prisons
Stuck keeping each other closer than a distance

Oh, sweetest disposition
You have the most striking persistence
Wouldn't count on you a single provision
No need for alcohol, drunk off you in any instance
And your silhouette blurs my vision
When you go missin'
You know who I'm missin'
My bittersweet disposition

Positive vibes spread like wildfires
Return to the world something to admire

Forget sorrows to smile at a stranger
A smile can make a stranger stay until later

They may walk on by
They may smile back
It might **** a cry
It might stop an attack

The process will repeat
...and repeat
From all of upleft elite
To the downright deadbeat

Embrace the times to endure
Soon the diseases will find their own cure

The strength to carry on will heal all wounds
The sun will break through the clouds of the monsoon

Winter will end and cold shoulders will thaw
Overall spirits will grow within us all

Your smile will bloom, beauty will not cease
You'll learn that life is filled with defeat

Frame up your scars, don't cover them up
Your eyes will glimmer and know what is what

Learn from your mistakes; yeah, that's what they'll say
gaining knowledge, changing to bliss from dismay

When the puppeteer severes the strings
you're left to see that nothing was as it seemed
The master then stars in a new show
while you're left aside to be content in sorrow

Candid knots are what the strings became
tightened around the heart for strain
arrest of the cardiacs are to blame
for the brain not to make sense of these games.

Disassembled me into your view
of some abstract art
The gallery would have went smoothly
if every actor played their part
you, yourself have tugged longly
at a fresh, rhythmic heart
even though you secured it onto my sleeve
you never did put me back like I was in the start
once I came apart

Isn't it crazy
How we'll burn a wall for a picture.
Isn't it crazy
How we'll waste life  for a scripture
Yeah, it's crazy
but we all grow a little bit sicker
Yeah, it's crazy
but the path doesn't get clearer

We're all just ficticious stories
unweaving our beginnings
to write our own ends

As ink runs out
to stories from blood filled pens
we'll wonder if we really ever got to blend

I always wake up in some ash & sweat, laying wondering what happened after last night began. What a joke... 
There was smoke, 14 people at most,
And plenty of liquid to make you choke. 
I always forget what did and what could have been, Who was there, and who had their livers spent with consciousness bent.
But these words in my head..
The ones that I've never said..
Will carry me away once I hit my bed.

Believing yourself before being able to question yourself
Calling before seeing the cards you've been dealt

Building with blocks, creating imagination before building walls, creating distance
As you grow older and not colder you find that your imagination turns to pretending
and pretending turns to wishes

Breathing fresh life, before scarring your own flesh rights
Spending time, without understanding sleepless nights

Seeing clearly before squinting to read between the lines
Hearing symphonies before tolerating lies

I imagine,
I pretend,
I wish,
I were young again.