She looked at me and I held her hand.
As we lay there by the ocean sand.
Told her I'd love her for eternity.
My love could fill up the ocean and the sea.
I'd always strive to forever keep her with me.

Until the waves came and swept her away.

I'm taking a backseat, to the rhapsody, ridiculous travesty,
Can't even think about how far I go without gravity, this tragedy.

I wake up every morning, and I'm doing nothing but mourning.
Over the lost souls, empty treasured bottles, drifting at sea, but you can't find it in yourself, to ever forgive me.
So I wake up and do the same thing, every way, every day, no way to sway the hay, needle in a haystack, thumb tack, remindin us that we ain't ever gonna find ourselves.

So we remind ourselves, that our lives aren't on the shelves,
We delve, yet we never dive, try to survive, in this crazy time,
And I.
Don't know what to tell you when your on the ground and cry and want to die.
So the night's light, not bright, can't see at this height, the fright, and might of the weight of the world. This never endin swirl of emotion, commotion never gonna keep at this notion that I can be somebody that I want to be.

Can't you see.

That this life ain't something to scoff at. When you take off the top hat and jacket, you're all just part of us this noise and racket, won't stop.

Til you make it to the top, and sing that you're the king, sittin on you're throne, you don't know how the bare bone of your work and hone,
those skills you get from regret and set the standard, so bet on it.
That you can be honest.

And it's honestly stupid.

There once was a boy,
who loved to play with others,
but then they took him.

When I was little I was afraid of needles.
The skinny shiny end, like the backs of beetles.
Mom holding my hand tight as I stood there. Feeble.
Telling me I was one of the bravest people.
She ever met.

Afterwards, I'd cry and lay there fetal.
She would tell me it was to prevent measles.
To stop me from looking like a red polka-dotted easel.
But I always told myself, they were evil.

And now, where am I?
The needle's no longer an enemy but an ally.
As I feel the cold metal devil,
and revel in this bed and dishevel,
and elevate to feel my fate slipping,
I told myself I was on a higher level.

So that I could ignore the fact,
that I made a blood pact,
With the wrong pack,
of crack,
trying to find my sanity, is like a needle in a haystack,
maybe I need a life jacket,
to save me from drowning myself.
The white walls, and black shelves,
All stare at me like I'm deaf.
But I can hear.
I can hear just fine,
and find the time,
this time,
ill quit.
I swear it.

When I was little I was afraid of needles.
The skinny shiny end, like the backs of beetles.
And now, I'm staring into a mirror, and choking myself.
Trying to tell myself.

To get rid of this evil.

In the world to describe how much I love you.

ti amo

te amo
o
Anh yêu em
I love you

איך האב דיר ליב
o
я тебе люблю

There aren't enough languages either.

The sensation of creation leads to revelation of revolting refuge,
rhetoric of retaliating reverse recklessness, little did we know it wasn't us to blame.

So the constant reminder of fame smacks the face of each race, as if there is nothing they can't do wrong.
when their on their toes, and their crimes on the nose, of each and every single song.
The continuous calamity of this adversity revels in the rebels of diversity.
And we keep trying, and the victims keep crying, because there's nothing they can do about it.

The moment in which we decide in ourselves to limit the blame and fame and end our self-made hell, an endless ringing bell,
a constant constant constant reminder that we. hate ourselves.

to the best of our ability we try to limit our reality as if closing our eyes, wont keep it 20/20.
And we keep ignoring it. And we keep ignoring and ignoring until one day in the light of morning we hear the mourning,
and the pigs keep snoring.

Because it's not their problem.
Its ours.

So we tire endlessly for hours, rinse repeat, blood draining the showers, as we try to fight the powers that shackle us.
And hold us. To limit ourselves that we can't be better than the old us. That we're better off here.
To disappear as if part of a background, a silent sound, a ghost hound, there is nothing left for me.

To do.

Because how can you try to fight the power, when the power you fight is in you.
You ignore the things going on, and yet you feel they are wrong.
So why don't you do something about it.

it's because you don't want to be the person who does something about it.
but instead see the person who does something about it.

and you continue every day wishing you had the strength to take on the masses, of endless, hate.
and let the course run of fate, and debate the state of each state, at this point can't collaborate to slate this... this hate.

they think we all need to be locked away, but don't they see, that's what we've always been.

Contained.

I walk down the dirt road.
Skies above, and ground below.
The heavens cry, for I shall not.
What has already gone, what I have forgot.

I see the trees.
The roses too.

I walk down the dirt road.
Skies above, and ground below.
The heavens shout, for I shall stop.
What has already gone, what I have forgot.

I see the trees.
The roses too.

I walk down the path.
It all repeats.
Nothing changes.
I cant sleep.
Help me.
Help me please.
Im stuck.
In my own reality.

I cant escape.
My mind ablaze.
Fire, fire.
It's all a haze.
But you cant hear me.
You cant see.
You cant peak into my reality.

It all started
That fateful day.
When you wanted to run.
Outside and play.
I told you no.
It's too cold outside.
But you yelled, you screamed, and cried.

So reluctant I did.
I followed through.
From the cold, hard, rain. I followed you.

On the dirt road, where no strangers pass.
I heard it loud.
I saw it fast.
The two sets of lights.
Yet not on me,
Trained... on you.

I screamed.
I yelled.
I ran.
I pushed.
I fell.
Now I lay here on these white sheets.
The machine whirring.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
I can never know.
I can never live.
My eyes stare blankly.
Unresponsive.

Its okay, because you're still here.
You can run, play, and it feels surreal.
My job is done,
My own reality.
This obstacle I can never overcome.

And still

I walk down the dirt road,
Skies above, and ground below,
The heavens cry, and I have yet.
For I have seen what has gone, and I will never forget.