Allow me to open up my mind
For it will only take a moment
Just a second of your time

To spin a tale
Of woe and love
That I know all too well

For you see
This mind of mine
It’s really quite special
But you really wouldn't know it
For it’s not safe for me to show it

For life
For love
For death
For blood

It’s really all the same to me
And I can’t ignore my sinister deed
I hear it calling

Beckoning...

Just for one quick *killing

Our parental figures did not approve
the choices that we made
and it had us both afraid
As time went on,
as time often does
They had to like the other, Because

PHONE FOR YOU!!
Was the common phrase
that started each of our days
We would call each other
and talk for hours
about everything, from love, to super powers...

The time passed so fast
that it seems to meld together
just like our lives have
we will stay this way forever.

My breath is taken away when I hear these amazing things
About this man I have never met
The more I hear the more intrigued I get
Black hair, brown eyes, Italian you say!
Bring him over, on moving day.

So you sped in the lot
burning rubber from your tires
electricity flowed through all my wires
later that night you saw my tears flow
you were ready to protect me, from what, you didn't know

I had just said goodbye to a boy
Who played with my love like I were his toy
Then when you looked at me
I knew I piqued your curiosity
I felt like a woman when our eyes would meet
I adore you already....

She and I are heading West,
into the setting of the sun.
Where,
the day's been filled and the light spills away
and the night makes its bed
that is where we shall stay,and
at my side she'll be there for me
my locked and loaded armoury
riding shotgun.

If I were her and she were me,
perhaps nothing would be different
about that time the two of us met.
We would each assume with a touch of pity
that the other was adorably naive
in her opinion of you and her together.

If I were her and she were me,
she would find three strands of my hair tangled in your sheets
and her chest would sting with regret as she hashed and rehashed
every imagined detail that began to crystallize.

If I were her and she were me,
she would not be able to look at you for very long at all
without the consuming thought of
you looking at me (in an identical or different fashion)
bleeding in.

If I were her and she were me,
she would never touch the subject,
never approach it, never cross it;
instead, she would let her heart fill up with you anyway,
and I would be smart.