I find myself dreaming while I'm awake, dying while I'm living.
I think of you and the softness of your skin, but how hard it was to the touch when you wanted it to be.
How every word uttered from your lips caressed me so painfully I trembled at any and every sound you'd make.
Your eyes, they'd go on forever, I could never look away, lost in your labyrinth.

You had me where you wanted me, you knew this, too.
You say jump and I ask how high?
You say run and I ask how fast?
You say fall and I don't even plan on you to catch me.

See, it's a one way street with you.
You take and take and never give,
I'm so desperate for you.
You keep me on my toes and that's what makes me stay. You don't let me sit idle, no grapes being handed to me, no fannings by large, green leaves.
You hurt and destroy endlessly... yet somehow that kindles a fire in me.

I'm ready to give you all of me.
I'm so ready for you to do the same.

In the moment, I know that's asking for way past what you're willing to give. But, hear me out, I was just like you, until a me came along- you.

I know you care but don't know how to show it.
I know you love but don't know how to express it.
I know it hurts not knowing, but there's nothing else for people like us.
We sit in oblivion and foolishly think we got it all under control.

That's another reason why I stay, because you're me and I'm you, and
I've never felt so close to us.

*A star and a comet, can't figure out who's who.

Being crazy is knowing something but thinking another.

Knowing it's impossible to count the stars in the night sky,
Knowing I can't fly,
But thinking I can and I will.

Knowing I can't stop wanting you,
Knowing you won't ever want me like I do,
But thinking we can and we will.

Knowing nothing lasts forever,
Knowing this won't get better,
But thinking it can and it will.

Sometimes crazy is the only reason I'm sane,
I'm just looking for the sunshine that follows the *rain.

We all have it in us, that gene to ****,
How if given the chance, we'd fight for our life.
Pretend to not be capable but, surprisingly, become very strong willed,
We'd do the most horrendous crimes out of desperation and strife.

It's a gene I wish to not have because,

I find it kind of funny, kind of melancholic,
How being a survivor is beautified.
I'm sorry, but I find no logic,
In fighting to live, while living to *die.