A girl has a dream
To be a singer seen
By her fellow teens
But her self esteem
Will have to be deep
For her to take the leap
To the dreams she’ll keep
While everyone sleeps

She takes the stage
In front of fans with rage
Who have a war to wage
Against those with grace
Who avoided the grave
Where the bitter stay

They throw trash
They throw dirt
They paid their cash
To giver her hurt
The ticket is worth
Ripping her shirt

They scream and spit
Not displaying much wit
Shouting “show us your ****”
Or “play a top forty hit”
Complaining “this isn’t lit”
To imply her music is ****

She sings even louder
To show she is prouder
To disprove all the doubters
Because in this pivotal hour
She has more power
Than all of those cowards

They tell her to give up
Because she’ll never live up
To those who are sin stuck
Blaming low win luck
While paying big bucks
To call her a lame duck

All she does is sing
Nullifying the hate they bring
Nullifying their spiteful stings
Nullifying the words they sling
Their hands they wring
While they watch her spring
Angelic wings
As she flies over them
She sees pathetic men
In the canyon she fled

Shutting the window close
He insisted her to sit near the fireplace
He knew this time the winter wind was ice cold

Silence was whooshing his ear
He long for her to sing , Her song ..
The same song which sparked their relationship so strong ..
Her song which brought life to this brick-wood home
He longed for her laughs .. his sunshine

Her cheeks were numb
and hand shivering as she picked the chair up ,
He quickly held her hand and rubbed them with warmth
He said a silent prayer ,
for summer to come soon
But somewhere deep he knew the warm weather
couldn't WARM A HEART GROWN COLD...

I wear my scars like diamonds
piece by piece
collected
from every place that I've been
mindless,
lost, blind, unable to find this
compassion
for fellow man
to help
myself, because the way
we treat the world
is the way we treat
ourselves,
and it's hell
out there --
but in here, just kind of warm,

in this home I've built
from scar tissue
to clothe me
when I'm homeless
because home is
where your heart is

and we fool ourselves
and romanticize
our drug abuse as art

from every start of
this sad little song;
the tiniest
violin
and we all can sing along

yeah, we all can sing along

and we sing:

me in my mansion
of scar tissue
I can't love myself
so I can't love you
(and) it's true
we're all lonely
lost
and if you could
only see me
remember just to breathe
just to be,
and then we
could look our reflections
in the eyes
and then me and you
might drop the veil
and finally realize
the spiritual
connection

to build bridges
even when we're helpless
if we could only be
just a little bit less
selfish:

take my plate
it's for you
I can't feed myself
I'd rather feed you--

But here in my mansion
of scar tissue
a phone call is like
a gunshot, please--

don't steal my diamonds,
don't
steal the only home
that I've built to
reside in

my vast hall
of vast walls

I'm afraid of December
but,
eager for the fall

this is all I've made
all these years
and if it all would
disappear

m a y b e   s o   w o u l d   I
well then maybe I
could grow you here
a garden--
wall to gravel,
great for drainage

to keep out all the rot
of the rotten cell the self built

I'll topple down
I cut meow-t
I'll bring the fall
and find my diamonds
made of skin

oh--if only to be free
of these walls
I'm living in,
to only excise myself
from my prison made from skin;

would you be there?
would we be there
together?

could we finally lie
eye to eye
breathe deep in
the rebellion

breathe deep,
break free,
of this cell
wall we've cemented
ourselves in to

this is me,
I want to sing

I want to sing with you

we'll swell well form
the start of one tiny violin

to a whole orchestra
of the whole world's song
all these cell-ves
all alone
but together
sing along

and we'd sing:

me in my mansion of scar tissue
I'm learning to forgive
myself
so that I can break
through

and it's true
we're all so lonely
and if I could only
see you
remember just to breathe
just to be
and then we
could break the glass,
I to I

and we'd all be free.

He'd sing along to the midnight songs.
She'd turn the other way.
He'd run and run to get away.
She'd stay.
Time would fly in their eyes, both dreaming up at the night sky.
All it takes is one day to change a world of what they see.
When they both come to meet under the blue umbrella.

a bird born in the city
may not know of the forest.
a bird born within the concrete jungle
may not know, but they share emptiness.

a bird born in the city
may have its belly swell.
a bird born in the crossroads and high towers
may feast forever and never fill.

a bird born in the city
may call it a home.
a bird born amongst alleys and avenues
may sing, but often crows.

a bird born in the city,
flies with wings far from what is known.