Her midnight star is burning bright

Evening song, such a beautiful sight



Love embraces with gracious heart

Oceans separate these lovers apart

Venus guides them in precious harmony

Ending with their song of sweetest symphony

She knows that time can never separate them



He sends her roses that grow from the hearts stem

Each want to give one delicate and fragile kiss

Risking true happiness from a life time of  bliss

When the sun goes down
this unknown land is our playground,
we are free to discover it's endless beauty.

This is just how we are at night.

In still black and white
this moment is ours,
we are the kings
and no one can take that away
(until the break of day).

Do you love me?
For all this pain and time ive spent I think I deserve the truth
Do you love me?
Or is it just the fact you like to **** more then you like me
Do you love me?
Can your words possibly be true when there is no action
Do you love me?
Am I just a fool for your tricks
Do you love me?
I want to believe that what you say is the truth
Do you love me?
Will I ever know?
If you loved me I think I would know for sure

I am like an icicle, cutting an innocent passerby
That happens to be standing right under me at the worst possible time.

Iam like a viper, lashing out at the unfortunite witness
That tortures souls that need no torturing
That already have enough in their life.

I am like a murderer, who has no mercy
Who strikes with a knife, to whoever happens to be there.

When did this all happen, when did I become this way
Now I remember, it's when you tear me apart
With an "innocent" comment
But a comment that burns.

A comment that is like acid on my heart
That tells of the abysmal life that you led me to lead
It's like a reassuring hug that suddenly turns on you
Why did you do this to me?

You are not a dancer,
But I like to watch your mind do pirouettes
As you take to the page.
You are far too gangly,
And your feet are much too large and cumbersome,
To accompany me to a ballroom,
But I could watch you waltz solo for hours,
As you labor gently over your words.
"Natural grace" has never applied to you
In the physical sense,
But your thoughts could rival
Fosse's signature moves in beauty and brilliance.
You are not a dancer,
But I like to imagine
That we tango in the moonlight
With words tumbling forth
In our precision steps:
One, two, three, one.
I'm not nearly as graceful as you are
In this realm, but someday
I hope to be the Ginger Rodgers
To the Fred Astaire of writers.

Hell has come calling
Outside I am falling
Panic strikes like a fist
Each thought like a mist
Leaving me sinking
Endlessly thinking
Shadows now surround me
Suffocating in my misery