I thought I was A bungalow filled With webs Then I met you A son A light A star In between the suburbs Of my healing Its hard to explain the contractions Of my veins and arteries Coz the excitement Registration is new to my Heart Mixed signals squeezing my System to chuckle Blush and giggle I think am in Love again. So my burial was birth To this beauty The kissing of smiles Chucks of imagination I can't clearly tell coz you know You can't keep throwing stones When you own a house of glass.
her name was season she could change four times. her name was silver, they called her dime. her name was motion she came, and went. they called her good-time, money well spent. her name was legend villain, hero, lover, and friend. she left with everything, that's how the story begins...
within the grit of the gentle white buried within the ***** of the roots lay life between its silent slumber while the outward burns to frost-ly breath all the buds lay in cozy sleep some think that Tis time to outshine while the rabbits lay burdened to sleep and bud and bloom midwinter too soon their jealousy their end their doom. as time makes brittle corpses of the children of sin when the sun melts through the dense white reality The well-rested princes and princess do rise
sometimes taking time and being patient gives rise to the opportunity. do not try to outshine by being the first. be an equal and share the glory.