i just wanted to pick your bones white daisies in a field and weave them together a halo to float over my head so wherever i'd go a part of you hung in the air a soft constant breeze.
and maybe you'll let me. maybe you'll string your veins like lights to light my journey when the cobbled streets are black and your back in rink-a-**** town and i'm off getting my wings.
you like to breath air into my dreams, lifting my balloons, and even though you'll be here in this gray town you never made me feel sorry.
sorry that i've got to leave. and maybe you'll give me your hands too,
so when it's colder than a winter month, i can wrap my fingers in them and i'll be warm on the inside too