Oh Mr Tibbs, all dressed up in your tuxedo.
Where are you off to?
Can I come with you?
I see you waiting, in my window.
You pretend not to see me... But I know you do.

Sometimes you look at me, I don't know what's going on in your head.
Sometimes the way that you look at me, makes me feel you want me dead.

I know you love me, sometimes it hurt me.
Sometimes you hurt me, when you love me.
I know you cause me pain... but not intentionally.
I'll always love you, even if it hurts me.

Oh Mr Tibbs you always dance when you're happy.
But when I talk to you, you turn you're back on me.
Oh look at your grey hair, you're getting older.
The thought of loosing you makes me feel colder.

Sometimes you look at me, I don't know what's going on in your head.
Sometimes the way that you look at me, makes me feel you want me dead.

I know you love me, sometimes it hurt me.
Sometimes you hurt me, when you love me.
I know you cause me pain... but not intentionally.
I'll always love you, even if it hurts me.

You wake me at 5 in the morning, scratching at my bedroom door.
But when I give in I can't sleep, 'cause you curl up on me, sleep, and snore.

I know you love me, sometimes it hurt me.
Sometimes you hurt me, when you love me.
I know you cause me pain... but not intentionally.
I'll always love you, even if it hurts me.

Summer’s heat.
A blazing storm.
A soft breeze.
Thunder and lightning.
Birds chirping.
Loud crying.

I can’t tell you what life is...
It could be a feeling,
Distinct and distant,
Present and close.
If I could blend all its colours
It would be the brightest of lights,
The most brilliant of whites,
Shivering in fright,
Shining with might,
Flickering in and out of sight.

How can I be here,
And you can see me?
Both of us
Pulsing like waves
Upon waves
As the perfect harmony plays.

Each pulse, a chord.
Each move, a dance;
Every emotion is a trance.
And if I bring all these sounds together,
I couldn’t bear it.
My heart may burst out of my chest,
Because I cannot possibly experience
These many faces
Overwhelming my senses
Rendered senseless.

So it is with a heavy heart that I admit,
I can’t tell you what life is.

Then she met the sun rising above the sky
superior to its servants, for 'tis the bright light
giving shelter to trees and flowers —
her morning were as rough as the dried sunflowers.

She ne'er-do-well at nights that seem to haunt her every time the moon arises from below —
the moon whom she hates when it strikes at six o'clock and the sun sets at five o'clock, she never gets the time to smile.

Tomorrow with her is never home.
A night with her could be considered as the curse.
From o'er the horizon, she looks up above, and scream, “Even songs I love I could not hear!”
Her little hymn and tones turned into lulla-byes —
a lullaby to good-bye.

“Tis the time to go home,"  she said, but what if night ne'er sets down and tomorrows turned ashes and good-byes?

When will she go home?