When high isn't high enough,
where do we stop?
Every slippery ***** has got a drop.
So leave it or  get the **** up.

And when you feel it run,
Through your blood,
Spill the drink
And listen to
her pretty heart sink and thud


And when the feeling goes,
***** the thorn on the rose,
Believe the storms,
And skip along
with the shadows.

We lock eyes and our words bred,
We fell for their tricks
and so we bled.
all the words out
And then
Forgot all we ever said.

And when the feeling goes,
***** the thorn on the rose,
Believe the storms,
And skip along
with the shadows.

i've created many storms inside myself
i'm afraid to cry now
when i do
it releases from my body
the lighting strikes
the thunder begins to clap
the wind is very strong
and its destroying everything it its path

It’s wild how deep our thoughts can go
How the thunderstorms won’t ever seem to go away,
How the dark clouds linger and part so slow.
It’s wild how deep our thoughts can go
How the serotonin can possibly be so low.
Trying and failing to keep the intrusive thoughts at bay
It’s wild how deep our thoughts can go
How the thunderstorms won’t ever seem to go away…

There's something about rainy sunday afternoons
that have made me fall in love.
not any other day or time
makes me feel the same way inside.
The ones where you open up the blinds
and curl up beside the window
watching, listening, never getting bored.

I could stay this way for hours.

There's a calm about them.
That the same force which sustains life can also destroy it.
That it chooses to cleanse the earth gently
and use it's power for good.
I long to step out into it
turn my face up to the sky
and let the drops soak my skin.
So that maybe it will choose
to do the same to me.

Our souls wander
Lost in the dark.
The ruin laughter squander.
Death brings the storms,
storms bring garnets
With a blood red shine.

The sun,
it always rose,
but the storms in her world,
always blocked it,
and she never saw the light,
never felt what it was like,
to smile,
to laugh,
But some days,
she saw the light leaking through the clouds,
a promise that something was coming,
so she held onto that,
what else is possible,
hope,
the future,
but now she feels that the light leaking through,
it fading away,
and she can't remember what light is like,
what hope is,
so now,
it's just her,
and her storms,
again