don't know how it'll feel
to see your face once again
it's been so long and so hard
not sure how to pull through
you gave me this life
and it hasn't gone well
but things are looking up and maybe, just maybe
this is the right thing to do
even though it may not seem
in the haze of this fucked up dream
that i haven't thought of you every day
and all the words i want to say
i'm sorry i lost myself
and through that, i lost you
worry kills relationships you know
but hope will pull us through
i love you and
i know we'll be
The only time she ever felt alive
was when she swung high and aimed for the skies
'cause the possibility of falling miles
off the swing was what made swinging too high
all the better. She wanted to let go, to fly
and feel utter fear before falling miles
to the ground. If she was lucky, she'd fall unwise
to her demise, because to her dying is a misty
dream come true. So she held onto these swings
and felt alive for the first time in a while...
She felt as though she were flying with chains
attached. And that's her entangled with strings
relationship with life; she wants to versatile
and let go but she still holds onto life's chains.
I lift my head and try to fly,
A bird with broken wings,
Held down and haunted by
The song my sorrow sings.
Useless melodies inside,
Keeping me from healing,
Ruffled feathers, open eyed,
The past I am concealing.
What is a bird that cannot fly?
I want to end it once and for all,
I put my trust into the sky,
And begin the final fall.
Once, he was asked,
"Tell me what is true.
Why is it that you
write just what you do?"
He laughed, and said
with half a smile,
"I write so you'll
fall in love for a while."
After a pause, he said pleasantly,
"Not with me - I'm a liar, you see,"
And grinning wildly,
he spoke his conclusion:
"Love is a poet's favourite illusion."
I first walked through an Open Door...
That soon lead to a trail of Corner Stone's...
That guided me to Abbe Road...
That soon lead me to an Olmsted Fall...