In terms of endearment the nickle falls between crumpled white bedsheets. It matters where you're standing to really view how much a damaged distance or pressed closeness can do. I'm finding the way to pick the garbage up in this graffiti filled walled alley. In this fish-eye view existence, I think I possibly could have stumbled into someone really great. I know that life is hard and even harder alone. But in the brown coffee shop gloom, you fill the room with happiness, that I love so much, cling too really.
It's a strange world where a place in the heart is the place you wish to live in someone else. I'd die for the love given. This is unhappy because I'm still learning about give and take. In rapid red flush of skin is all it takes. I know that's not always the case, but "Ideally" is really just a children's playground. It's fawned in blissful ignorance. When everybody's knife is sharpened and behind those people's back do they come out to play.
They are still dull to the flickering tongue speaking illnesses and spilling jaded poison into a new way to drop to the calico-covered stoned etched ground. In which to crawl slowly,"gasping" back to your feet, knee to earth and blackened boot to dirt. I find I only can find you to be the reason for my change. I'd be lost forever without you. I'll find out how much love is given when memories of me seem more like bad dreams. I dream only bad dreams when I dream, I wonder if I die when I dream, and Hell is my reality, my drink of a broken bottled beer. I never really know how much glass is in my red lagered Beer. I guess the only way, is to drink through your dreams. So pitiful, I hope you see through the crap, and connect sincerely to another, to pick you up, as you do likewise. Teamwork exists even in Hell, and Romance is just another mystery prize you have to buy tickets for.
It's a strange world where a place in the heart is the place you wish to live in someone else. I'd die for the love given. This is unhappy because I'm still learning about give and take. In rapid red flush of skin is all it takes. I know that's not always the case, but "Ideally" is really just a children's playground. It's fawned in blissful ignorance. When everybody's knife is sharpened and behind those people's back do they come out to play.
They are still dull to the flickering tongue speaking illnesses and spilling jaded poison into a new way to drop to the calico-covered stoned etched ground. In which to crawl slowly,"gasping" back to your feet, knee to earth and blackened boot to dirt. I find I only can find you to be the reason for my change. I'd be lost forever without you. I'll find out how much love is given when memories of me seem more like bad dreams. I dream only bad dreams when I dream, I wonder if I die when I dream, and Hell is my reality, my drink of a broken bottled beer. I never really know how much glass is in my red lagered Beer. I guess the only way, is to drink through your dreams. So pitiful, I hope you see through the crap, and connect sincerely to another, to pick you up, as you do likewise. Teamwork exists even in Hell, and Romance is just another mystery prize you have to buy tickets for.
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