A wishing well,
Old pennies thrown in,
New,
Brilliant,
Shining,
They shall be yours again.

I've seen this one thousand times,
But I watch it anyway,
Hoping to gain something new,
But I know I won't,
Still I watch,
With eyes open,
And open mind,
Yet nothing is new,
It's like you,
Same shades and colors that you choose,
I get bored and angry,
Not because of me,
but because of you,
And it scares me to hell,
Not because of you,
But the rituals you do.

God moves in a mysterious way,
    His wonders to perform;
He plants his footsteps in the sea,
    And rides upon the storm.

Deep in unfathomable mines
    Of never-failing skill,
He treasures up his bright designs,
    And works his sov'reign will.

Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take,
    The clouds ye so much dread
Are big with mercy, and shall break
    In blessings on your head.

Judge not the Lord by feeble sense,
    But trust him for his grace;
Behind a frowning providence
    He hides a smiling face.

His purposes will ripen fast,
    Unfolding ev'ry hour;
The bud may have a bitter taste,
    But sweet will be the flow'r.

Blind unbelief is sure to err,
    And scan his work in vain;
God is his own interpreter,
    And he will make it plain.

Sometimes I dream that I'll spontaneously combust,

Or that my body will one day turn to rust.
I dream about fearing death,

And wake up out of breath.
Then I remember it's just a dream,

It makes me want to scream.
Because I know the world is full of life,

But death still remains its wife.

"I will protect you," you said. But you lied.
"You can count on me," you said. But you lied.
"I care about you," you said. But you lied.

"I'm not like the others," you said. But you lied.
"You can trust me," you said. But you lied.
"I love you," you said. But you lied.

"I'm fine..." I said. But I lied.