"aristocrat" poems
So I'll have mine
and you'll have yours?
who could ask
for anything more!
grey beards march
the union jack
build a wall
and send them back!
Grudge, sludge
a sanguine view
****** off
and take the cue
hide, plunge
aristocrat
run the field
like an old tom cat
Narrow pass
and capital flow
falling crude
and currency woe
deep depression,
mutineers
the mastermind
of project fear!
Silver spoon
at Hampton court
madness waits
in Davenport
divisible
and off the grid
**** it up
100 quid
Helen’s horsemen
unified
the springbok club
will never hide
plebiscite
in deep despair
an open scroll
Trafalgar square
Grapple, grovel
sentry shame
along the shore
of river Thames
king of wankers
lord of beat
break the rule
of old elite!
Stone the posse
bullets bare
load the chambers
fists in air
voices, faces
haunted souls…
should i stay
or should i go?
Jan 15, 2017
Jan 15, 2017 at 2:21 PM UTC
Chekhov and Murakami came to me in short spurts of memory; as if the life of a keyboard was a retro invention sinking the ancient sea bona fidelis. Temper Fidelis and sorry larks wish upon the galoshes you wore to repeated proms instigated in large moral distances between burning barns (it's a dangerous hobby). Starved for trapped frogs with claws and violence was a question answered in blood so two wrongs made a state of nothingness free of wrong or right (***you nihilistic ***** she suggested a better drink to pick at Starbucks: 'a flaming frappucino at 140 degrees.' (what are you, some angry Russian aristocrat contemptuous of an English wife T-minus a decade ? )close-bracket)
God is sick of two things: my continued and addicted references to Judaeo-Christianity and the dragged sympathy of humanity for his lost son ("it's been 2013 years for Chrissake")
you melt on me like a strange evening spent with a stick of butter
self improvement 46% complete
Oct 4, 2013
Oct 4, 2013 at 5:19 PM UTC
Chekhov and Murakami came to me in short spurts of memory; as if the life of a keyboard was a retro invention sinking the ancient sea bona fidelis. Temper Fidelis and sorry larks wish upon the galoshes you wore to repeated proms instigated in large moral distances between burning barns (it's a dangerous hobby). Starved for trapped frogs with claws and violence was a question answered in blood so two wrongs made a state of nothingness free of wrong or right (***you nihilistic ***** she suggested a better drink to pick at Starbucks: 'a flaming frappucino at 140 degrees.' (what are you, some angry Russian aristocrat contemptuous of an English wife T-minus a decade ? )close-bracket)
God is sick of two things: my continued and addicted references to Judaeo-Christianity and the dragged sympathy of humanity for his lost son ("it's been 2013 years for Chrissake")
you melt on me like a strange evening spent with a stick of butter
self improvement 46% complete
Jun 27, 2013
Jun 27, 2013 at 2:06 PM UTC
i met a boy once with bluebells for eyes
a cold blue sparkling in his sockets
a cancer toyed with between his fingers
truth in his want but a false fidelity
manner like a court joker and name fitting of an aristocrat
were you embarrassed of me too
you were so prone to hiding things
i flowered as brightly as you
we spent such short time together
growing at a slow pace
of course i made it a tall tale
cherry lipstick across his face
like an explorer flagging the wonder of a new continent
like a killer especially with blood staining their fingernails
unable to hide their crime and their cruelty
but i guess that was foreshadowing
Aug 5, 2013
Aug 5, 2013 at 8:21 PM UTC
Satires opposite
Compassionate disturbance
Through relevant absurdness
Behind the aristocrat's curtain
Lies means of a hidden purpose
Manipulation as their key
For the locked in propaganda to be
It's brainwashing us, why can't we see?
I've opened my eyes, take it from me
It's poetic injustice to say the least
Jul 9, 2014
Jul 9, 2014 at 4:14 PM UTC
You came to me this morning and you handled me like meat.
You’d have to be a man to know how good that feels, how sweet.
My mirrored twin, my next of kin, I’d know you in my sleep
and who but you would take me in, a thousand kisses deep.
I loved you when you opened like a lily to the heat,
you see I’m just another snowman standing in the rain and sleet,
who loved you with his frozen love,
his second hand physique, with all he is, and all he was,
A thousand kisses deep.
I know you had to lie to me, I know you had to cheat,
to pose all hot and high behind the veils of shear deceit,
our perfect **** aristocrat so elegant and cheap,
I’m old but I’m still into that,
A thousand kisses deep.
I’m good at love, I’m good at hate, it' s in between I freeze.
Been working out, but its too late, it’s been to late for years.
But you look good, you really do, they love you on the street.
If you were here I’d kneel for you,
a thousand kisses deep.
The autumn moved across your skin, got something in my eye,
a light that doesn’t need to live, and doesn’t need to die.
A riddle in the book of love, obscure and obsolete,
till witnessed here in time and blood,
A thousand kisses deep.
And I'm still working with the wine, still dancing cheek to cheek,
the band is playing Auld Lang Syne, but the heart will not retreat.
I ran with Diz and I sang with Ray, I never had their sweep,
but once or twice they let me play
A thousand kisses deep.
Apr 4, 2015
Apr 4, 2015 at 7:00 PM UTC
Transnational capitalism is a gluttonous preoccupation of the aristocrat. Although Simone De Beauvoir nailed her colors to the metaphorical mast of equality, it is reasonable to acknowledge that our perimeter lies beyond intra-personal vistas of gender identity and ****** preference.
The Lord of the Manor will grant entry to your greasy soul, if you embrace the common denominator of anthropological affiliation.
So, weary pilgrim, on this treacherous journey of presumed arrival: I urge you to identify that spiritual lobotomy of the majority where ontological convenience jeopardises the rich tapestry of our planet’s pulse.
Collectivism has a cosmological duality which will never be reconciled as long as parliamentary ridicule insults the intelligence of equilibrium.
Whatever happened to democracy? And, why do you simply conform to dictatorial messages which sink their teeth into the very flesh of community existence? We may not be able to alter the direction of the wind, but we can truly adjust our sails.
Dec 31, 2013
Dec 31, 2013 at 3:55 PM UTC
Animals abolishing apples and apricots,
angry astronauts abandon Abraham's automobile,
algae acting after ant at Ally alligator's aunt's apartment
Aching antsy alpha aardvarks arranging afternoon arguments
After Amanda ate anchors, Anna attacked Alabama
at Abbey Road Alice anounced an aristocrat arriving.
An acceptable antonym!
Apr 16, 2010
Apr 16, 2010 at 3:32 PM UTC
I am not disposable.
That's a fact, it's non-negotiable.
A fact, which right now you smirk at-
but I am not a servant, and
you're certainly not an aristocrat.
I am not expendable.
I wish proper etiquette was injectable,
because that's a vaccine you desperately need.
Caring and truly caring-
you need to learn the difference between those two things.
I am not nonessential.
You think you know me inside and out,
but you don't have the right credentials.
I try to understand your motives,
but your thoughts are cryptic and confidential.
I am not unnecessary.
You make yourself into two faces-
the object of all my affection, and my greatest adversary.
This situation is just a coal mine-
your treating me like I am these things is the canary.
These things are what I am not.
I should be paramount in your life.
Through your own actions you've proven these are all I am to you,
You've unsheathed a backstabbing knife.
I am here to stay.
Though you've nonchalantly tried to toss me away,
you will learn someday,
that I am not disposable.
Jun 10, 2013
Jun 10, 2013 at 8:47 PM UTC
We will start with every Jew of every sect.
then every Muslim of every sect.
then every Christian of every sect.
then every Buddist of every sect.
Then every Vedic Hindu of every sect.
then every Animist of every sect.
then every New Ager of every sect.
then every person who lives "religiously".
then every person who "believes in and worships" any "god" or "goddess".
then every person of either *** or any of the five skin colours.
then the redheads.
then the disabled.
then the "gays" male or female.
then the "Politicians" of any belief.
then every member or supporter of any Oligarchy anywhere.
then every Capitalist and supporters of every sect.
then every Socialist and supporters of every sect.
then every Liberal and supporters of every sect.
then every Monarchist and supporters of every sect.
then every "aristocrat" and their supporters.
then every Militarist and supporters of every sect.
then every Fascist and supporters of every sect.
then every "Freedom" lover of whatever belief.
then every Revolutionary and supporters of whatever cause.
then every Criminal of whatever crime.
every Hippy.
every Ecofreak.
every alcoholic user.
every tobacco smoker.
every Cannabis smoker.
every priest of every "religion"
every Khat chewer.
every ***** of any junk.
every celebrity especially public ones.
every historian.
every novelist.
every poet.
every lecturer.
every expert.
every "adviser".
every spokesperson.
every print or electronic journalist especially.
every Television chat show host.
every one else.
Its the only way to get neither War nor Peace
on this war ravaged planet,
but simple existence without any corruption or criminality.
and then who will be left?.
NO ONE!!
Except me and my twin flame
and oh boy will we have a great time of it.
Alone but all one.
just us and the Isness of the Universe.
wandering this beautiful playground gifted to us by the Isness of the Universe.
The Isness of the Universe to walk with and talk with.
Fruit hanging from trees .
Cold clear waters to drink.
Nuts to crunch.
oh and Amber our huge sheppie--
connosseur of Pork Crackling
and doggy nonsense and wisdom.
www.thefournobletruthsrevised.co.uk
Aug 12, 2014
Aug 12, 2014 at 1:26 AM UTC
I’m a just right, out of sight, lily-white,
Never coy, ball of joy, good old boy,
So great it keeps me up at night,
Clever son of all the tricks I employ.
A world-beating, caucus leading,
Really big deal, big wheel big shot,
Clean outside, mean on the inside
Super savvy, super cool, super hot.
I’m the guy you want to toast
I’m the tops, I’m where it’s at
Some are good, but I’m the most.
I’m a sainted southern aristocrat.
It’s not good to get on my bad side.
I’m a fearless, remorseless go-getter.
I’m right, you’re wrong, if there’s a fight,
Yeah, you may be good, but I’m better.
I’m a cut above, you’ve just got to love
A gift from God sent from high above.
A card-carrying good guy to the letter,
A credit to my entire race, nobody better.
Whether in the news or word of mouth,
A quality beacon of the Sainted South.
I’m the guy you want to toast
I’m the tops, I’m where it’s at
Some are good, but I’m the most.
I’m a sainted southern aristocrat.
It’s not good to get on my bad side.
I’m a fearless, remorseless go-getter.
I’m right, you’re wrong, if there’s a fight,
Yeah, you may be good, but I’m better.
So, go away with your stupid picketing;
We knew how to run things way back when
We have God on our side, so just back off.
Old ways are the best way, again and again.
Your talk about equality and nigras rights
May sound good, but it’s all just libel.
We are the chosen children of our God
And you can find that in The Holy Bible.
I’m a cut above, you’ve just got to love
A gift from God sent from high above.
A card-carrying good guy to the letter,
A credit to my entire race, nobody better.
Whether in the papers or word of mouth,
I’m a quality representative of The South.
Apr 4, 2016
Apr 4, 2016 at 7:02 PM UTC
991
She sped as Petals of a Rose
Offended by the Wind—
A frail Aristocrat of Time
Indemnity to find—
Leaving on nature—a Default
As Cricket or as Bee—
But Andes in the Bosoms where
She had begun to lie—
1.7k
Sartorial elegance
He always wore a yellow silk scarf around his neck
The type actors wear when in blazer having a drink on the terrace
Of a posh hotel, he bought his scarf at a second-hand store
In Cheshire, nevertheless, it was made to fit him
Oddly enough the rest of his apparel was purchased in a Chine's
This gave him an air of seedy elegance that normally comes with
Those who suffer no self- awareness
He was poor and lived on bread and marge, when not invited
To high-born party by people who thought he was an aristocrat
Sometimes I came too because as he said he was writing a novel,
And that made me interested in people with literary ambitions,
There are so few of them hidden in lofts and not spoken of-
His dead was sudden a rope and a beam,
he was missed by the locals
I have not had a proper dinner for a long time,
But I wear his yellows silk scarf for a book unwritten.
May 10, 2017
May 10, 2017 at 2:31 AM UTC
What if all you believed was a lie
What if everything was an illusive deceit
Would you commit suicide, continue to believe or investigate the truth?
What if your life depended on it
What would you do?
There is paper trails wrapped up in illusion and like a picture framed
You only see what is there,
At least what the camera shots.
Charisma is subtle
It’s a quality I despise, why?
It’s the traits of politicians,
They tell you sweet bitter lies,
A fool enthralled, you eat it up like it was pork chops and salads
An appetizer
A delight.
Conspiracy theory elaborates truth as well as lies
What are we to believe when the world is built on bluff?
And we are all blind; give me a pair of glasses so I may see the world more vividly
I do however; believe I need more than that.
What holy war is upon us, when will the Jews have some solace?
When will the fat aristocrat evacuate his couch and out of the kings palace?
When will the rich exchange shoes with the poor and vice versa so
They might know the shackled ******** life as well as champagne and caviar.
We question the possibility of what takes precedence
I may Google the net, read a thousand books
Dive in all sorts of information
But I guess my appetite wouldn’t be satisfied because my eyes and ears
Had enough to realize and acknowledge that the world is built truly on illusion
If you don’t believe me, take the movies,
They use graphics and all the technology at their leisure for things to appear real
Actors and actresses like wise
We are all plunged in by theses perceptive beliefs
That precipitates a reality that conjures fictitiously real.
All rights Reserved.
Christena Antonia Valaire Williams.
April 17, 2013
Apr 22, 2013
Apr 22, 2013 at 10:28 AM UTC
Look at us pseudo clever race of ignorance,
Addicted to entertainment our only common
Pleasure filled pain. We will fight to maintain
An uncomfortable satisfying false reality
A reality where we all are individuals controlled by
Another uncontrolled individual.
Through a maze of tunnels lies the mystic wastes
Smoke filled shanties makeshift villages and,
Dim lit ***** dens
The marijuana plants in the basement
Grow into the hard wood floors of the cigar rooms
Of an ancient aristocrat mansion
No infested with the ***** demons of the wasteland
Goats amongst sheep, the bring rolled joys
To dying black hearts of the innocent sinful
Humans in our civilized chaos.
Renaming our creators for the simple bliss of renaming a unnamed
Uncreated creator.
Feb 13, 2012
Feb 13, 2012 at 9:28 AM UTC
You wonder why I dwell in the dark,
You wonder why I never call back,
You wonder why I be a lost sane,
I wonder if I’ll ever see you again,
Evading the city flare,
Evading to the mellow lair,
Evading the caramelised routine,
Evading a contagious whine,
A thing of pity, years and hence,
A sweet obsession, that only commence,
You wonder if I have lost every sense,
I wonder if I ever made any sense,
You wonder why I invest so much,
You wonder why I run on loss,
You wonder what became of us,
I wonder if it's fantasy or lust,
Come! Come! Sure let's reshape our maps,
What has been and maybe perhaps,
Swoosh! Whoosh! Be undone and done!
How awfully convenient, is it not, hon?!
Exuberant creatures they flatter me often,
Those lofty lot, enticing I find none,
Sure I shall allow an unbiased trial!
Sheath the heart, her eyes a biased thrill!
Never mention my poached heart,
And we'll get along just fine, love,
And be forever entwined,
In that same old fairytale, concubine!
You wonder why I am a repugnant aristocrat,
You wonder why I am a narcissist in grave dearth,
You wonder why I am a deception to change,
I wonder how passionately I was never your gain...
Of course I am not an island of my own,
Of course I am but a mere fraction of the whole,
Oh! Tempting balms! they embrace me so,
Quite the way you wrapped me Cozy, long ago,
You wonder why I am stuck in a rut,
You wonder why I choose not to be smart,
You wonder why I wait without disgust,
I wonder where my rescue boat is lost….
You wonder why I let the years fly by,
You wonder why I live in the bygone and deny,
You wonder why I never forget your voice,
You wonder why I keep every memory alive,
I wonder if I'll ever see you again,
I wonder if it will all be the same.....
Sep 26, 2015
Sep 26, 2015 at 7:40 AM UTC
You are hidden from view
You don’t see me
I don’t see you
This makes me nervous,
You see
I know what you have done
Through history
The wars you’ve caused
The blood you’ve shed
Down so many streets
Rolling heads
Armies and power
Rows of stones
Crosses and flowers
Court jesters
And child molesters
Clowning around
Bishops and criers
Lingering liars
Towers and trials
All of the arrogant
Baying and praying
For a male child
****** horsemen
Hunting with hounds
We no longer want you
Around
Sean Hunt May 5 2016
May 5, 2016
May 5, 2016 at 6:10 PM UTC
by Leonard Cohen
You came to me this morning
And you handled me like meat
You’d have to be a man to know
How good that feels, how sweet
My mirror twin, my next of kin
I’d know you in my sleep
And who but you would take me in
A thousand kisses deep
I loved you when you opened
Like a lily to the heat
You see I’m just another snowman
Standing in the rain and sleet
Who loved you with his frozen love
His secondhand physique
With all he is and all he was
A thousand kisses deep
I know you had to lie to me
I know you had to cheat
To pose all hot and high
Behind the veils of sheer deceit
Our perfect **** aristocrat
So elegant and cheap
I’m old but I’m still into that
A thousand kisses deep
I’m good at love, I’m good at hate
It’s in between I freeze
Been working out but it’s too late
(It’s been too late for years)
But you look good, you really do
They love you on the street
If you were here I’d kneel for you
A thousand kisses deep
The autumn moved across your skin
Got something in my eye
A light that doesn’t need to live
And doesn’t need to die
A riddle in the book of love
Obscure and obsolete
And witnessed here in time and blood
A thousand kisses deep
But I’m still working with the wine
Still dancing cheek to cheek
The band is playing Auld Lang Syne
But the heart will not retreat
I ran with Diz, I sang with Ray
I never had their sweet
But once or twice they let me play
A thousand kisses deep
I loved you when you opened
Like a lily to the heat
You see I’m just another snowman
Standing in the rain and sleet
Who loved you with his frozen love
His secondhand physique
With all he is and all he was
A thousand kisses deep
But you don’t need to hear me now
And every word I speak
It counts against me anyhow
A thousand kisses deep!
Sep 9, 2015
Sep 9, 2015 at 5:35 PM UTC
I am an aristocrat.
The kind that molds and seams sentences,
one word upon another as if they were ancient incantations
taught to the younglings of Native American tribes. Generations upon generations.
I’m well spoken.
Can’t you tell? The way I’ve found that happy medium between the whimper and the whine?
I won’t be a bother. No, no, if you want me to kneel for you, I’m the frayed ends of your welcome rug. Sing you a song?
I am your mobile radio.
Tap my dials, I’ll make you squeal
with delight in the evening light.
Tip, turn
She was an American girl.
You yell, you scream.
I’m a sweet talker.
I’ll make you slit your eyes with pretend apprehension and the slightest, least perceptible grin I’ve ever witnessed performed by a member of humankind.
Oh, you know I’m never lonely.
Never have I spent minutes in the corner
scrounging for the few innocent nickels I’ve left to
maneuver claws and
obtain my purity.
No, my pockets are full.
Full of falling stars.
And not even just my front ones. I’ve got so many that it’s starting to affect my strut so people notice and congratulate me on my confident and masculine demeanor.
I was told to save them for a rainy day.
But I’m rain repellant.
That billowing storm wouldn’t dare approach me.
There is a drought,
and it’s deliberate.
Here, have a few of my stars.
I’m a real winner, and I’m living it large.
Touch me, I’m golden.
I am a fighter.
I am a winner.
So long, reflection, I’m off to woo the world.
Feb 4, 2014
Feb 4, 2014 at 1:58 AM UTC
A once stout orchid now wilts in the spring rain.
Embrittled leaves dissipate from the trees, ********** the truth.
A shimmering crown pierces the ground, as the king abandons his regime.
The wretched aristocrat collapses at the beggar's knees, pleading for mercy.
Jan 3, 2013
Jan 3, 2013 at 12:59 PM UTC
In wolf’s lair,
Will you be?
There to meet me
and greet me
With salutations free
I can see your eyes now
soften with sadness, somehow
But then,
Like the howl of the wind
There you stand,
without fear
You reach for a hand
You will not fail this time
For here your future
Awaits you,
In wolf’s lair,
The glory of your dignity
Morning’s child
And poet’s rhyme,
Etched on your face
The contours of your grace
aristocrat born
With kisses mourn
The passing of life
Your only destiny
Beautiful man of the ages
Beautiful passion of the sages
You who threw your courage
In wolf’s lair,at the villain’s outrage
You have won in your defeat
Carried the burden of this feat
Neither the moon in its dark haze
Can forget the intensity of your gaze
Lay your weary mind now,
In wolf’s lair, the cry has sounded
glasses wildly strewn
Across the earth’s floor,broken
The valkyrie have chosen
Your name they have spoken
You will fight with reason
You, a hero for all season
vaguely a whisper in December
born in sweet November,
dying in July,
On your lips was a cry
Long live
Long live
Forever you shall live
Like the waves in the sea
Like the leaves of a tree
Everlasting in your sleep,
There, the hero will no longer weep
Will you meet me ?
One last time,
In wolf’s lair, the valkyries’ nests
Gently smile upon this solemn memory
That shall forever nurture
And grow in love,
It can never die
And you will never die,
One last look my hero ,before you go
Into the sky,
Into spirits high
Mark my soul with the breath of your
Silent song,
Pictures of your face
Give me strength to grow
And to glow…
You will always be….
My hero
You will always be,
My love….
Apr 5, 2015
Apr 5, 2015 at 11:21 PM UTC
Fallen down flat,
*** for tat,
Enough of that,
Small as a gnat,
Swept under the Matt,
My back don't pat,
Not but a rat,
Treat me as ****
Fell through the slat,
Next up to bat,
Enough chit chat,
Lost in combat,
Set in format,
Don't copycat,
A spinning laundromat,
Or broken thermostat,
Scared little pussycat,
Decisions arrived at,
Flexible as an acrobat,
Masked aristocrat,
Hiding in a top hat,
Known through Snapchat,
Don't even work at,
Used like a doormat,
Cat calling at,
Filed caveat,
Blind as a bat,
Lost sewer rat,
Fallen down flat.
Aug 3, 2017
Aug 3, 2017 at 8:34 AM UTC
you asked me long ago why every time we ******
it was 'so passionate'
today it hit me,
as i was reading tropic of cancer for the fourth time
it's because i am passion,
i am passion embodied
your other women,
they may give you something else individually,
but they are not the look in my golden eyes
as we both stand on our knees
and devour each other hungrily
they may be beauty or intelligence or a simply good ****
but they are not passion
i realized that it is not the **** that you crave,
but the characteristics that you lack, you take from us
you need my passion to stay sane and whole
i gave it freely because it is all of me
i have an endless, abundance of passion
a depthless well of fieriness
you pay me in faux love and deep friendship for the dedicated doses
of passion that i put into your soul
your words stick to me because they are my words
i gave them to you with each passionate ****
and you spit them back in just the way i loved
the more i ponder our coup the more i realize
the ******* was for me to unload the heavy burden passion brings
you needed it to fill you and i have a surplus
as each day ends i find more clarity
you are a hollow vessel and your women give you your character
they are all loved and unloved by you
they all give you what you need to feel human
but i must start rationing my passion
i need it for my writings
i need it for my living
i need it for my sanity
perhaps to hone it so that at a simple touch i can ignite sparks
in every beggar, aristocrat, country-man
rather than to fill up your empty chest where love is not welcome
Apr 9, 2014
Apr 9, 2014 at 5:41 PM UTC
"I'm in love with you," her aristocrat says,
And the girl tries to hide her dismay.
"Why do you say that?" asks the girl
"because you're new and old" says the Earl.
"You love me because I'm a novelty?
Just because I'm pretty and not like other royalty?"
And she feels her heart begin to ache
And she curses herself for being a flake.
But then he merely laughs and draws
her hand into his and with a little pause,
says: "The taste of you, the smell of you, all these things are new,
and this is why, my Sweetest one, I cannot stop kissing or touching you.
But deep down Dearest, you should know
that as sure as the Kilimanjaro snows-
That even despite my young ******* son
Or the fact that my leg's shot through
and the ghost of an ex-wife hovers over me
and the skeletons won't stop tumbling out-
Still and always you are known to me.
It is as if we had never been strangers, see.
By the crook of your smile and the laugh in your eyes,
You couldn't hide from me, not in a disguise.
And this is how I'm in love with you, Sweet,
Newest yet oldest lover-friend, with you, I've found my own two feet."
Feb 2, 2015
Feb 2, 2015 at 10:47 PM UTC
Let it burn slow
As my heart becomes numb
And it's okay if it's bitter, I found out
So is the taste of love
Clear, transparent, and 80 proof
Just like my soul was to you
Feeling lost and confused
Like I always am without you
And I catch myself wishing
You were whispering my name
Every star, every scar
Every mark upon my heart just up and fades away
And I feel myself missing everything we threw away
Every dream, every scene
Every song we'd ever sing
Was lost in yesterday and
Now I'm trying to do without you
But I can't seem to give up this fight
And I know everything would be alright
If I could just kiss you tonight so,
Should you find yourself wondering if I still think about you
I want you to know that
Every thought, every step with
Every tear, and every breath
I swear I do
This backwards leaving, game we're beating
Stupid reasons, useless feelings
I'm not surprised
It's all a part of our failed attempts to say
Goodbye
Now I'm bleeding where I bled
You're hiding where you hid
Burning out instead
Of trying again
And the softer side of unbearable makes for complicated feelings
My minds been mistreated, I wasn't prepared for this
Now I just want to disappear
Drink until I'm unaware
But instead I stay awake
Feeling cold and tired
Right back where I started
Drinking myself blind
Trying to forget all the reasons why
You're no longer....
Mine
Nov 25, 2014
Nov 25, 2014 at 7:33 PM UTC