What a shame
That the rose
Died before You
Got a chance to water it.

What a shame
That the candle
Burned out before
You got a chance to light it.

I guess that’s
The beauty in forgotten love.

The devil, he may sin,
But he's a southern gentleman,
With open doors,
His home is yours,
No God's more welcoming,
Than him.

God is not in the church
It’s in the sweet warm blush of Spring breeze,
the blue burning up high in the afternoon,
the mattress-soft pinks and cotton whites
blooming along freshly painted porches;

It’s in the bees that buzz zip from petal to petal
as if their lives’ meaning is to bring pollen
to the colors of the rainbow,
to spread the seeds of Summer over everything
like green over a pasture, teeming and bright;

It’s in the reason we come to a park on Sunday
and lie on our backs, float on the cool grass,
gaze up the skirt of a flowering tree,
letting the Sun take a nap on our chest

God is life, and life is all around

To live forever; to cheat Death's Plan;
To slaughter men; to be a Man;
Achaean glory saves their souls,
Written forever in Homer's scrolls.

The lists of names, the blood and gore,
All for one purpose: to die no more.
We sing the songs; we read their pain;
We are the minds that house the Slain.

We are the Underworld.

When love is real it doesn’t lie, cheat, pretend or keep secret
Love would be so much easier if we only fall in love with people that would love us back
Moving on is simple, actually.
What you leave behind that make it so difficult
All you have to do is take a look into yourself
“I fought to keep your love, but you didn’t fight to keep mine”
That’s the difference

I wish there was something meaningful that I could say to help ease the pain