"I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;
I lift my lids and all is born again.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

The stars go waltzing out in blue and red,
And arbitrary blackness gallops in:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed
And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

God topples from the sky, hell's fires fade:
Exit seraphim and Satan's men:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I fancied you'd return the way you said,
But I grow old and I forget your name.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

I should have loved a thunderbird instead;
At least when spring comes they roar back again.
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)"

In and out
That is life
Once you are in you cannot there stay
You got to get out. It has always been this way.
No time to delay
No time to doubt
Life will only run out.
Once you are in, you got to get out.
In with a cry, we all start.
That you do not choose.
Out with glory if you win
Out with shame if you lose.
We choose the matter of leave.
Discharged with honor, or with regret to grieve.
No matter the manner we got to go out.
It has always been this way.
No time to delay,
No time to doubt.
Life will only run out.

In case you did not notice,
I changed.
In case you did not know,
I am different.
In case you did not see,
I am evolving.
In case you did not know,
I am learning
That the right way to live
Is never to fear dying.
And the only way to win,
Is to never stop trying.

Not all small things are cute.
Not all silent people are mute.
Not all roses are there to please.
Some offer honey, and some eat the bees.
The venomous sometimes is the most pretty.
The weakling looking can turn to be gritty.
The purest spring can lead to deceptions.
Hell's road is paved with good intentions.
When eyes are widened with admiration,
The soul can slip down in temptation.
Put not your guard down, dear son.
Press on, until the final battle is won.

The signs of the fathers
haunt your way.
They tell you beware
being like us
fallen to decay.

The sirens of the fathers
deafen your soul
urging you to care
about the realm true
they once befouled.

The sins of the fathers
the back of the sons they bend
who strive upwards and lower they go
as only Eternal Hand
can eternal brokenness mend.

When the sinner becomes the judge, it happens.
When the creature starts to create, it happens.
When the doomed undo his doom by plaguing others
And when the wounded his brother only wounds
It happens!
Another Adam falls.
Another Eve dies.
Another paradise is lost.
Why do not we just be what we were meant?
Why not regret the time and effort spent
while being our own gods?

Wine comes in at the mouth
And love comes in at the eye;
That's all we shall know for truth
Before we grow old and die.
I lift the glass to my mouth,
I look at you, and I sigh.

don't let the bullets that escape one man's mind
effect the way you see
every man in the world
instead
let it
ignite
a flame in a nations
everlasting void
and fill the world with candles burning and
looking
to the light needed in a
society of
**dark minds.

"Go ahead be a snitch
You'll get more than one stitch
This time, *****."

dating a writer
is like guessing the weather.
you think you know what you'll get,
but you never do.

you never know
because

she'll create a hero
from your weaknesses

and she'll write a great character,
from every last flaw.

she'll create a thousand plots  
from your worst nightmares.

she'll take every last thing you hate
and create something you'll love.

she'll turn your anger
into confessions of adoration,

and she'll make you,
everything you're not.

but worst of all,
she'll leave you wondering-
is it you she's in love with,
or things she's created from you?

but here's the beauty of it:

if you date a writer,
you'll never die.