It's a washboard of broken dreams,
A smile of stars,
Road signs that have never tried to speak,
Can this moonlight engulf us?
Roads tear up what wasn't empty land,
Love is a growing tree, with knots,
And our feet bleed from walking,
Like her heart from all his talking,
Butterflies with extra wings,
With a painful reality, why do the birds sleep while we lie awake?
The stars don't tell much,
But that look on your face,
It sure does.
Aug 22, 2010
Aug 22, 2010 at 8:57 PM UTC
It's a washboard of broken dreams,
A smile of stars,
Road signs that have never tried to speak,
Can this moonlight engulf us?
Roads tear up what wasn't empty land,
Love is a growing tree, with knots,
And our feet bleed from walking,
Like her heart from all his talking,
Butterflies with extra wings,
With a painful reality, why do the birds sleep while we lie awake?
The stars don't tell much,
But that look on your face,
It sure does.