I like dreams,
Like visiting heaven for a few brief moments,
Sometimes they are that good.

When I wake up,
I dare not move,
I stay so very still,
Hanging on to their echoes.

Take responsibility,
For the things you say,
For like the melody of her favorite song,
She’ll sing them,
And she’ll wonder,
An she’ll hope.

Or like piercing siren,
She will dig her face deeper into the pillow,
To run away,
Wishing for a razor,
To cut off the those pretty little ears.

What would you think if I told you that you move me:
Out of my bed and onto cold, hard, parquet floor,
From that floor into warm socks,
Feet into hard leather shoes,
And then I lock the door behind me.

What would you think,
If I told you that you move me?

Once there was a mountain,
Now there is just sand,
Once there was a kingdom,
Now just empty land,
Once I was a fire,
Now just smoke and ash,
Once I had a dream,
But all that’s left is trash.

I’m not ashamed of my passion or desire,
My lust or my want.
I’m not ashamed of my thirst.

Spend some time with me,
Learn what it is to submit,
To dive into pleasure,
To become what they fear most;
Free.

Unfair is everything I am to you;

A friend,
A lover,
A closed door.

Yet with your heart clenched in your fist,
You hammer at my chest,
With hopes to match the rhythm.

Three Million keys you offer still,
To doors untouched by any,
And only ask that I walk through,
And feel the pulsing of your walls.

But I stand still,
An ancient oak,
Who’s felt the world but taken zero steps.

The world moves around us,
A whirlwind of everything,
Picking up speed.

But when we connect,
Quiet.

We’re in the center,
We’re in the eye,
And nothing can touch us.