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Well somebody said
Cars are for strong men
You can't love your car
If you do not spend

Hours of attention
Stacks full of money
But I was born to love you
And you to make me happy

Calling for my attention
Calling for my love
As close as we could be
I saw note , sticked on


I wanna be the one with unbreakable field
Wanna be the one, simply by nature
I do wanna be the one
Knowing how to stop my heart

Car price is going high
******* right at me
I can't still believe
What it is doing to me

Im starting to tremble
I'm starting to care about
But Inside in my hearth
I know I'm not alright
This is lyrics for song. It is recorded but not public. My first song ever recorded with my own band , but we are separated already.
ghostbroadcast Nov 2018
What are we
but simple beings, wannabes
Every one a small piece
of the game, Reality™
We all live in conformity
social norms followed religiously
Until one dreamer dares to dream
steps away, breaks routine
gazes upward and flies free
Imagination is all we have
when this world is our lab
where we can be extraordinary
philosophers, never ordinary
Without these dreams
what are we
but simple beings, wannabes
Blade Maiden Jul 2018
I take my imaginary pen
I write down my anger
I close my eyes and count to ten
just to breathe a little longer

It's laughable really
when I see you justifying
Sure, you're all touchy-feely
only goodwill, so hard-trying

When you said that to me
where was your heart at?
Why calling me your better-half-to-be
when all you wanted was a shoulder pat?

Oh you, with your wonderful poetry,
oh, lies so beautifully written down
please just stop, you don't know no poverty
in your emerald sea everything you wanted me to believe is to drown

I never thought you would make me think
the worst of you instead
And I swear I could only stand and stare and shrink
when you didn't care to lose your head

Now you haunt me like the headless horseman
and you will forever
but I do not worry for my sanity, oh boy of thoughts turned cyan
I walked with ghosts before and a headless one is so less clever

And if you ever come back looking for this head of yours
Think twice, try a little bit harder wannabe
It might stick out of the sand at your emerald sea shores
Your love for me was never poetry
nvly Apr 2018
What is it like to be the moon?
To be asleep during the noon
To be awake during the night
Watching matters sleeping tight

What is it like to be the sun?
To watch the mothers scolding their son
To be one of the stars
To see matter living the day by far

What is it like to be a rose?
Hated by some, but loved by most
Pretty by eyes, pain to hold
Giving to matters when things got cold
Miss Clofullia Sep 2016
the world is full
of wannabes
and has-beens..
no one lives
in the present
anymore.

[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5ZDsCJ4rGD4]
Maddie Jan 2016
The words rings in my ears
Printed across my forehead
My worst fear exposed
Right when I thought...
I thought...
Why do I keep thinking?
And hoping?
Trying to be
Trying
How many people think so?
Or rather
How many know?
These rips in my jeans
Don't change me
If only eyeliner did the trick
The loud music
Doesn't make me one of them
No matter how hard I try
But I guess everyone can see
See through this disguise
While overlooking what I want them to see
You tried to bring me down, it worked. I hoped no one knew I was just a wannabe but apparently you did. It only hurts because you're right
Alan S Bailey Jan 2016
He's so perfect! He's a great guy to bring home,
He has a fast, expensive car, he works at a good job,
He's got his own backyard, a house all his own,
He's got a lot of "decent" connections,
He's always around to be a wisest leader,
Loves to take you down if you failed inspections,
He's just so perfect!

And so this is what "real love" is all about. *How unrealistic.
rants, rants, Sorry if I sound nuts. Just tired of these people everywhere in the west. But hey! That's California for you!
Alexandra Dogbe Dec 2015
They say "you are made of stars therefore you should love yourself"

but I seem to be made of something else

something that differs a bit from the stars everyone else seems to be made of

because the "stars" in me definitely do not deserve to be gazed at and admired like the many that so beautifully linger in the night sky

I cannot be made of stars for I am unworthy

and though it hurts to know, it is true, I will never be loved or admired, adored or glorified

Yet somehow I still manage to continue to crave these unattainable desires, in hopes that everything I think I know will reveal itself to be a lie

but we live in reality and this is the truth

which hurts, it really hurts.
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