My words unspoken Never leaving my quivering lips Ricochet like bullets Fading in and out Only some manage to be free Slipping into proper sound Forming strange words Most would rather not hear
The reason for never allowing the flood gates to open Is for fear that they would never close That they would be forced in such a way That they would eventually betray all I hold dear To fall upon the chancing ear Or none but my own
Never more clear to me, than when the rusted gate, swung open did I see the great fullness, in the value of choice to suffer oneself into a place of substance-- forces pulling at me, unfelt.. realms crossed over into, unscathed.
When she opened up her heart to me.. all Hell, broke loose
and I cant help, but wonder if I was dreaming https://youtu.be/4F9DxYhqmKw
I'm just your average joe who knows what the **** is going on And I've been traveling for god knows how long I was once standing in front of the pearly gates But I somehow ended up in Babylon I don't know how I ended up here But I swear I'll crawl my way back Back to the pearly gates Just for chance To get inside that lovely place.
I had to hear the sound of the zip on that dress I asked her back to mine for cold coffee and cigarettes She said she doesn't smoke but she'd have one to impress and she isn't one for coffee So sorry, I digress
Before she sat down all these lines coalesced with secrets and lies, I try to confess she catalysed a crystal convalescence her garnet eyes sparking wildfires in my chest my lungs are so tight they could rival her dress Stung in the heart for kicking the nest took a shot in the dark Again, I digress
A small crowded room - as small rooms tend to be but for everyone there, she was all I could see the picture of perfection, framed perfectly in a dress designed to buckle my knees Crowded c'rod'd quickly becomes we and I was trying to get her on my settee Is it a metaphor if I meant it literally? Excuse me, once more it seems I digress
I just had to get her out of that dress mess up her make up make her hair a mess kiss her when she wakes up and watch her get dressed to undress her again exalted by the scent bask in the sound of the zip on that dress while I sip on cold coffee and smoke cigarettes
The story isn't in order so it's automatically better, right? Like pulp fiction