The man in apartment seven
misspells his own last name
he eats onion bread with olive oil
and he doesn't mind the rain

The man in apartment seven
hears music constantly
he hums during conversations
and sings when his time is free

The man in apartment seven
is the truest man I know
his brown eyes tell a story
that few would ever show

The man in apartment seven
and I live with the same curse
where mania and sadness
both act as our traverse

But he has found a way, somehow
to love life, not just cope
his smile and understanding
daily, give me hope

When we walk home together
I wish we lived miles away
because there's no one else
who can make me feel this way

The man in apartment seven
is not just the boy next door
without a doubt, he is the one
I would do anything for.

My vast heart views panoramas,
Of wide depths, open to oceans,
Sorrow has broke no thing alone,
A pink starfish legs under waters,
Arms ever sinking into wet sands.

As tides roll in, the sea birds whirl,
Exploding clouds of spray an' skirl.

My soul, washes up, for granted,
Untook leftovers of the beached,
Endlessly salt dry things all alone,
Holey shells, driftwood, seaweed
And half buried, one pink starfish.

*As tides roll in, the sea birds whirl,
Exploding clouds of spray an' skirl.