I put my heart on some guitar strings
I let you play them the way you wanted
We've never really had the same songs in our ears
But as long as your fingers play me,
You could turn me into the devil’s notes
And I would still be happy.

But I forgot, you just like listening to music
You've never been able to play anything
You just break the strings
And abandon the guitar
In the corner of your room
Behind your desk
Behind your eyes
Behind your life.
I wish you would just let me escape,
Escape the darkness, the nonsense you threw me in
Because I am here and I hear the songs you listen
And they are not for me
And you don’t know how much I could love you
You don’t know that the sad songs you listen to
Hurt me more than they hurt you.
You don’t know that I could make them quiet
Only if you would let me in your heart.
Only if you would repair the strings
And learn how to play them.

Tell mother I found my way
and this time I'll stay

Tell insegnante I've got something to say
and it all still sounds the same
but I'm saying it my way

Tell my favorite songs
I think they're too long
because they contain
more than what I've seen

Yell at the devil for being too loud,
leaving me deaf, though I hear
well enough, and tell him I've heard,
well, enough of his cliche,
heavy metal crowd

Yell at the band wagon
Tell it to stop for an oil change,
and make sure it never rides again
Its passengers have something to say,
though they don't want to stay
but they don't want to go away,
though their noses are too long,
and there's no fire in their song

Tell them to say it their way
though they want to runaway
from their minds and from their hearts
while never growing apart
They can't have the best of both worlds
My mind curls

to the beat of its own bongos
and shades of pink and red and black
I find I don't lack

firm ground,
but am more abundant in frowns
sometimes more abundant in smiles.
Depends on the weather.

After  the people leave, that's when
I know where I've come,
how far I've come back to them

So tell my best friend I'm still intact
Tell the crowd I'm not out-of-whack
Tell my favorite songs I've turned them into facts
Tell all poets their words aren't to blame
Tell mother that I'm okay

in the morning when i wake,
let the sun shine through
fill my lungs with sweetness

breathe me in and hold me
close
whistle me songs of love and happiness

then fall
fall
softly back to sleep

Daily walks would lead me down

The tourist laden streets

Where people from all walks of life

Would congregate and meet

Buskers, singers, ne'er do wells

Would work throughout the throngs

But in back of Giannis restaurant

Sat an old man sharing songs

He didn't sing so much as talk

His voice was hoarse with age

But a milk box and an orange crate

Were his table, chair and stage

His instrument, an old guitar

Scarred, battle worn and black

His guitar strap was as old as he

An old potato sack

He sat and played to nobody

He just let the words be there

His audience could be a hundred deep

Sometimes it could be air

His music was his lifes blood

It was everything he had

So he shared it with the people

And the people....they were glad

The tourists, stayed away though

They were more attracted by the flair

Of the buskers and the jugglers

Not this man who wasn't there

He never left to join the crowd

And to sell his songs to those

Who really wanted nothing more

Than to hear some manufactured prose

The people who he played to

Were just others from the street

They worked the bars and restaurants

And at night they'd find a seat

In front of this old bluesman

Sitting by his orange box

Playing his guitar by candle light

Taking in his songs and talks

He sang songs from the heart, I guess

About those who'd he'd met

He'd sing about a dozen songs

That would constitue a set

Then he'd open up his silver flask

And ******* two gulps down

"This here's just my medicine"

"My past lives just to drown"

He sang of Truck Stop Beauty Queens

And of Walks out in the park

He sang of people living life

Not just hiding in the dark

He sang of things so real you'd see

Their pictures in your mind

He'd sing of places and of things

That others would not find

But tourists, they just stayed away

Near the buskers blowing fire

While yards away this old man sat

Just like an old town cryer

His audience would leave a bit

of change for their free show

He never asked for anything

For this was his row to ***

At two though when the street shut down

He closed his show down too

But he always had an extra song

A special one for you

His music came from in his heart

He shared it without fear

For once it left his throat it was

A sound that was so dear

The tourists went to hotels

Once the buskers all went home

But he just moved his crate and box

He slept out here alone

He sang his songs of characters

Who helped make us his life

His words were sometimes gentle

While others cut you like a knife

His world was just that orange crate

And his music helped unfurl

The melodies in this mans mind

It helped him share his world

He knew some things and people that

Would take rather than give

He sang about the street people

Because among them he did live

His home was just a cardboard box

Behind Giannis bar

And if you want to see a real good show

You don't have to go far

It's just a little beaten path

Away from tourist fare

Where this little, old, shy

Bluesman sings to hundreds or the air..

I closed myself off from love,
Because I didn't need the pain.
These feelings can either make or break you,
Tearing you apart or healing the scars.

But something happened,
That changed my mind forever,
Something that took a dead flower,
And made it bloom into the most beautiful sight.

My heart beats a little bit faster,
When I see you just up ahead,
I always look away and tell myself it's fake,
There's no way I'll let love destroy me.

I think I'm falling in love with the fire,
But I know if I get to close,
It'll burn me mercilessly,
Don't touch the flames.

They say I'm crazy,
But I don't care what they say,
It's like he's pulling down the walls,
Around my heart.

It feels like gravity is pulling us together,
I'm not going to fight this feeling,
Let's watch it grow like plants,
Waiting to get closer.

Feel the heat of passion,
Nature and Fire were never meant to mix,
But we'll make this work,
We'll make it bolder than anything.

Some say it's a disaster waiting to happen,
I couldn't disagree more,
I've never been so happy in my life,
I feel like I'm floating!

It feels like we'll never fall,
Always be here,
Nothing could ever happen...
It's perfect, meant to be!

...ah, you weren't supposed to fall that hard,
You weren't supposed to ruin it,
With your blood,
My love is what killed you, isn't it?

It's burning down,
The embers are falling beneath the earth,
Passion going up in smoke,
"Until death do us part."

Love is what brings people together,
It's what tears them apart,
Leaves a hole,
That nobody but you can fill again.

There's a second chance,
A chance for life,
A way for your eyes to open,
The light returning to your face.

Love is forever,
It can pursue through even death itself,
So let's let this city burn,
And lose ourselves ... together.

The blurred lines in my mind
have my thoughts playing on rewind,
like an old school mixtape
it took me forever to find
and all the songs play on shuffle,
each one a memory from a different day,
remembering the hussle
and all the things I couldn't say,
but I got every little part
of every tune
memorized to heart
and when I play them on repeat
from the start
I get lost in the tracks, fumbling,
checking out this road map
with no streets,
just valleys and hills
and when the beat gets faster,
I can feel the thrill

I spent the night drunk
isn't it gross?
I could have been in your arms
instead
I wrapped my lips in liquor
it all swept me away
funny
you used to do that