Truth be told
I'd bet my soul.
I only get lonely in the mornings.
The cold breeds empty amidst the white light of the morning sun.
A good morning blue bird colors the hazey sky.
As the sunrise of solitude fills the air I ponder my soul.
I'd sell my soul if it turned back time to the place of orange sight.
A place in time before the silent night
To the place that lives in sets.
Where the sun waves goodbye and enters a full evening sky.
You are my only sunset.
I feel full at the peak of sunset.

-2.00 +1.50 x 180
I barely see
Through squinty eyes is a love that looks like Paris.
Paris shifts and shakes until out of the cracks a pair of lost eye glasses are found.
I see what you've been searching for.
A love that feels like Paris.
Congruence in the vision.
Discrepancy in reality.
What is Paris really like this time of year?
Can you hear it sparkle? Does it sing?
Tell me do you hear the strange songs?
Is it riots?
Riot chants fill the streets to which we must all sing along.
If I dare tell you I love you like paris nights
Move, oh move along.
If you dare love me like Paris songs
I'll be destroyed by daylight.
Paris nights,
in the name of good faith and a romantic stroll,
beautiful and strong.
The mist is married to ashes.
Dont fall in love with ideas you'll end up like riots on a Paris morning.
I dont speak the language so tell me what these words mean because I've felt them all along.
Je t'aime **** de cette ville.

..neither
good enough a mason or carpenter
to burn bridges
so quickly
and still have anywhere to go.