Images cross their eyes, Porsche and the posh, A chauffeur to fly them far, To dines lit with heavenly chandeliers, Where lips sips on ancient sweet wines, Images cross their eyes, More of the dreams of gold.
At the pinnacles of right and wrong, where life is changed and paths are drawn, When your thoughts are surrounded by the hardness of stone, And intertwined with small traces of gold, Don’t lay on the rock and feel the cold, Burn away all that traps and treasure the gold. Those small shining pieces are what holds the truth, The solid fixtures of wisdom and proof, The only part that may bring you through, In the darkness and chaos of all the paths you drew.
I stare at the empty place in my bed, I don't need you there for you stained my sheets and left my heart there to bleed. I choke on my tears. I cry not for you, but for a heart that has so much love to give and no one to give it to. A heart that yearns to be loved, only to bleed heartache and pain. And a need to be touched by a love so pure that it would love the pieces back together with nothing less than seams of gold. For this heart realizes that a woman, so capable of feeling, so intense, deserves nothing less than gold.
somehow, i always manage to ruin something. Anything. Everything. I wish the things id touch would turn to gold, instead, they turn to black. Everything i love turning back as if i were never there in the first place, and i deserve it. I used to be so happy and healthy and sweet now i am nothing but petty and toxic and mean i don't know when or how but something inside of me died like a flower left in a vase a little too long i started to wilt away started to lose my petals one by one kindness..... Joy........ self love....... Leaving me one at a time and then seemingly all at once as if when the last petal fell I died with it. I dont know what to do with this carcass of a girl who once was except to hold it up if only to catch a few final rays of sun.