You'd said you try, try harder
The storms done and
The weather's warmer
We all get old sometime
It's a blessing in disguise
There was a crash when we
First met
A comet of brilliance
You say you'd like to start anew
From wayward shores to
Skies of blue
Blue
Blue ashen cigarettes in Cadillacs
When we're both down we cruise
Like bats
In your disease I found a lover
In your strawberry speech a
World of glamour
I have held your heart like it
Was a charm
I've grasped your hands and
Stroked your arms
And I'm aware of how you say?
Our reckless games and
Childish ways  of
How you're so wrapped up in the
Game
Of the fantasies that
Bloom in your brain
That I was apart of
I was your muse
I'm all used up and feeling bruised
But that's the pleasure paradox
Winter solstice to the Summer
Equinox
When you live for the thrills
It just may be caused by
The pain you hide-away
And maybe this is our plight
To jump from windows out
Into the night
You'd said you catch me if I fell
You said it wouldn't hurt at all
So this is where I'll leave
You now
With regrets of bad decisions
And wondering how
We're still afloat and
Getting through
Of how I'm still wrapped up
In you.

Smile.
Not because they ask you to,
But because they will never have to know what it's like to feel cold
In a warm room.

I sit on the step
And draw
The cold around me
Like a blanket,
Savouring the numbness
And the heat
That begins within.
Swallowed by the night
Drunk on wine
And stars.
Hot tears on cold cheeks.
Seasoning for
Chapped lips
Stinging
Bringing fresh tears.
I take refuge
In the silence,
Under the gaze of
Sympathetic eyes.
My friends.
My constant companions.
Drunk on wine
And stars.

i apologise,
i'm well aware
it's illegal to use
pictures of people
without their permission,
but your image
wanders through my
fantasies with no
regard for roadblocks
or boundaries, and
frankly, i'm tired
of throwing photographs
away.

The Sandman has gone out of business,
he says that he’s closing up shop.
Yeah, the Sandman is leaving us hanging,
he’s givin’ his clients the drop.

But the black market promises quality,
claims it’s made just the right stuff.
Got some back-alley dreams for the takin’,
well, if you can pay enough.

Now Grandma’s returned to the sixties,
she still rolls the best jays in town,
and I’ve entered the family business,
soon she’ll have to give up that crown.

Yeah, they call me the Sandman round these parts,
and I still haven’t slept worth a ****.
But if you need some dreams, for a reasonable fee
satisfaction is guaranteed.