I first saw her at a party
Skin Tight jeans and Farrah's hair
She glanced and smiled in my direction
Trouble's brewing and it ain't fair

I knew right then I had to have her
Couldn't get her off my mind
I'd take her home and I would show her
A love of the most carnal kind

Where there's smoke there's always fire
Don't be fooled between love and lust
You've got to control your hearts desire
'Cause the fires hot and you'll end up dust

Working late without no distraction
The new secretary walked on in
I knew right then that I had to have her
My mind was thinking of only sin

She had a ring upon her finger
I didn't care, I had to know
She was selling and I was buying
I had some wild seed to sow

Where there's smoke there's always fire
Don't be fooled between love and lust
You've got to control your hearts desire
'Cause the fires hot and you'll end up dust

Running practice for all the kids
Getting sweaty with soccer moms
There was one standing there right beside me
I had to have her...and get me some

I made a move and she responded
Flipped me right onto my back
I thought here she comes, it's gonna happen
Then she kicked me in the sack

Where there's smoke there's always fire
Don't be fooled between love and lust
You've got to control your hearts desire
'Cause the fires hot and you'll end up dust

Because I cannot stop my hands from shaking
Nor the wobble in my walk
I've come to terms with my mortality.
If not for a recent understanding
Of what keeps my mind on pins.
I cannot wait until I ache
For that stomach punching pit again
Putting me out my misery.
One day soon I hope and I pray
I can look you in the eyes and turn you away
But for whatever reason you remain.
The hopelessness that my eyes portray
Simply weaken every day
Until the day someone says so
And my anxiety just goes away

your happiness should NEVER be based solely on one person.
your home shouldn't ever be nestled inside of someone's chest
or tucked into the creases of their arms.
your happiness shouldn't be measured by the amount of times they say i love you
or by how many times their fingers intertwine with yours
because if you want to get brutally honest here,
happiness that's based on a person will forever and always lead to disappointment.
because the second that they even as much as threaten to step out of the door,
you're back to the way you were
or even worse.
you're left with a shadow of your former self.
you can't make a person your home no matter how sturdy you think the foundation is because their arms will always crumble around you and leave you cold.
not because they meant to,
but because they weren't built to.
they could have had every intention of holdin' you up steady,
but no matter how hard they try,
their arms will never compare because
they weren't made to be your brick walls.
you have got to understand that.
you can't put that much weight on one person.
one human being.
one soul.
they can love you.
they surely can love you.
they can love you with all of their heart.
and as you to them,
but your home should not be composed of
veins that do not belong to you,
and arms that aren't attached to your own body.
your happiness shouldn't be solely based on the way
that your body seems to perfectly coincide with theirs.
they can surely be a factor,
a part of your happiness.
but babe,
you're in some trouble if they're your whole.

I learned a lot about you today
and, let's just say, I feel pretty bad
not because of the things you did, I'm sad because I had no clue.
Sitting like I used to, with my Kellies, Barbies, and Kens
I paid no mind to how awful you used to dress,
how your blowout was always a mess,
or how you left our family stressed to clean up your mistakes
Yes, I had my fake and imaginary friends but you're 9 years older than me and had them too
I just wish I could've helped you through that time
the time when jail cells closed you in and trapped the smoke inside your lungs
like how every morning, I wash my face, teeth, and tongue
you would watch your back as you packed your bae, Mary Jane into your bag and hoped not to get caught.
And my 7-year-old thoughts couldn't have done anything to help
but, a couple years later, you gave up the kelp that lit YOU and smoked YOU until you were gone
But here you are, making songs and listening to the poems I write
and may I be right to say that I'm not 7 and you're not 17 anymore
the door of your false happiness has shut
but you're my brother and I love you
I just wish I could've been there for you sooner.

Trouble.
The thing I complain about.
The thing I claim I never want.
The thing that messes with my heart.
The thing that destroys my mind.
The thing that breaks down my ego.
The thing I dream of.
The thing that makes me the fool.

Your life is a constant fight
I sense it all around you
Day and night
Your anger flys through windows
Your curiosity is what causes my insecurities
A troubled soul
Letting trouble take its toll
Yet some how you stole my heart

You’re trouble.
But I can’t seem to stay away.
My heart pounds when I see you.
Beating like a drum
opening the moment for suspense.
As you get closer,
it pounds louder.
And the only thought I can hear
is the one to make yours pound too.

“These are supposed to be our best years
our most memorable.
Shamefully,
we are a generation of alcohol amnesiacs
we barely remember the names of those who have
filled our beds.
Its all a quest to find the ONE they say.
The weekend warriors battle through
the multitude of diseases,
what troopers.
You really have to ask yourself,
is it all really worth it?
The hangovers,
the blackouts,
the bad dreams and tormenting dizzy memories.
The STI’s,
the fall outs, bust ups, and broken friendships.
All of this from inside a glass.
You pay for it from the cash in your pocket, but your left with shattered lines across your face.
We are marred by our regrets.
So,
is it worth it?
yes?
Then what can I get you?” Asked the bartender.
“These are supposed to be our best years
our most memorable.
Shamefully,
we are a generation of alcohol amnesiacs
we barely remember the names of those who have
filled our beds.
Its all a quest to find the ONE they say.
The weekend warriors battle through
the multitude of diseases,
what troopers.
You really have to ask yourself,
is it all really worth it?
The hangovers,
the blackouts,
the bad dreams and tormenting dizzy memories.
The STI’s,
the fall outs, bust ups, and broken friendships.
All of this from inside a glass.
You pay for it from the cash in your pocket, but your left with shattered lines across your face.
We are marred by our regrets.
So,
is it worth it?
yes?
Then what can I get you?” Asked the bartender.

Reset pv4 pin ID add host lvl
with my broken concentration,
while the reboot computes and
command prompt prefers
and no I don't have the router,
but yes I'm an administrator.
Who is in charge,
and who is punishing me?
Superstition sends me around back into the
Ground beef while I'm repenting of my sins
to get my hard drive running smoother,
like it's a catholic father
who just gets crotchety in the presence of gigabits
and lil ***** who won't behave
and condemns this piece of crap to an early grave.
Oh, but maybe it's just I need to unscrew and then pull out and blow off and put back in...
doubting it all again and a big circle starts anew.