California —Some might say we are made from the sharpest things you say
We are young and we don't care.
Your dreams and your hopeless hair.
We never wanted it to be this way.
For all our lives.
Do you care at all?—
//Give Em' Hell, Kid
My Chemical Roman 4 followers / 18 words
You may shoot me with your words, You may cut me with your eyes, You may **** me with your hatefulness, But still, like air, I'll rise. Up from a past that's rooted in pain I rise I am the dream and the hope of the slave. I rise I rise I rise again and again.
Her lips taste like gold And I smell lilacs on the wind As a breeze brushes back her hair She looks me in the eye And traces a finger down my cheek And along my jawline Just to pull gently on my chin hair She wraps her hands around my face And pulls me in for a long kiss No words need to be said We were speaking with our souls And I knew there was a reason for everything In that moment