Yesterday I gave up music, because music gives me dreams and dreams don't let me sleep.
I got this constant reminder of the headache of waking up without a drink when I pack up for the day and head on my way.

And you all know that I probably wouldn't want it this way.
That is to say I never really wanted anything or maybe I wanted everything.

I’d like to fool myself into thinking that's the curse of great minds and spirits.
Those with attributes greater than they would ever find a need for.

But I prefer to maintain perspective on what’s suspected of me.
So everything becomes an elegant lie.
Even when it’s the truth.
Simply because it was born of deceit.

So is that its fate, can it not change, can I, not change.
Not that I’m asking,
I’d just like to know that when I lock a door I don't swallow the key.

Because I see myself as every ones lover and friend even when I have every twitching impulse against them.
It’s strange for me to meet myself half way between apathy and empathy for everything and nothing at you.

But because I’m told I can only truly enrich and deepen my soul infinitely and eternally with one.
Your lips are the canvas of which I must create my masterpiece of love and anything else.

Because that is the only way they will accept it.