Warm nights always got it going, you know, stirred things up.

"Hey, I have an idea," and we were gone.

But I guess it's because we're ready to promise each other

that we can do things on our own, and in the proper order.

I also guess,

that you can justify exactly what you're doing,

and i'm in the clouds, yeah, i'm really up there now.

Let us hope our shoulders can carry this weight.

The burden's kind of heavy if we make a mistake.

Can’t you see that it’s clear that you can be much more than you intend to be?

That you can go more places then you have ever been?

Being vulnerable for a second, oh just one second, can make you stronger.

Yeah, you'll have people at your feet.

Though I will never compensate for all the love you were denied,

and all the trust you have seen dissolve,

and my words may never patch up those holes in the walls;

Yeah, there are many different kinds of pain.

But I have heard many 'whores' and 'bitch' and 'evil,’'

and hands aren't sound proof,

and genetics don't allow you to steer very far or allow you to think any differently.

Hands smooth and calloused free; mind is full of scars.

Hearts beat slower when they are reminded of how little they were used;

how often they were ignored.

Sometimes misplaced in your speeches.

I think someone abandoned you.

Lights and skies and minds grow dim.

Toss and turn in your sleep; can't dream, can't think.

Indifference: feels like you have no ground, no sky to see, where is the meaning to anything?

It'll fade to black when your heart gives out

Sometimes memories can get you down, sometimes memories can leave you nameless.

Guess I never understand how people get their motivation

to be cold,

to be cruel,

to be heartless.

________________________________

Wherever I am, there are always golden boys,

Because I think that they will make me pure.

So I cling to them and talk to them, until I have no energy left.

But I always find more to talk about because I don't want it to end.

Another perfect sunset that I have missed too busy trying to change my opinions to match up with his.

I won't be that crutch

and I won't be that cane.

Never again.

Never again.

So now, here I am, at something like a fork in the road.

I think it’s more like a deep gash, or a scar on the surface of something beautiful and indescribable.

A mystery I have made myself apart of, a journey I guess I have to be a part of, or responsible for, or at least have my name in the credits.

Because I’ve created this life I lead, but I still don’t know where it’s taking me.

So people can join me if they like, but I don’t see the point.

I’ll be quick to learn faces and names, but I know I’ll forget who they are just as easily.

But I’ll live each day, like it’s the only day that’s ever been.

And if I have some friends, then let them in.

And if intangibles start to seep into my path, then let them act out their part.

Because love is something that can be accepted, even into something as fragile as a heart.

Are you impressed at how you live this life your life?

A stepping stone.

Pulsing with heat, throbbing with lust.

You were her source of all this black sunshine; you knew she would give up.

All these depressing rays of light, blowing smoke through twisted windows.

You would laze around your, days and see that she was always there.

Just an excuse for a soul, to get things with and lose herself;

she had eyes that could sell,

and you thought maybe you could put it to good.

“Wise,” they say, the Catawba say; “Snakebites cure the sick.”

As you watched her waste away and no day was ended without a ray of black sunshine

because she just wanted a fix, and it was you who could give it.

But you never bit.

What are you subscribing to my love? Because you seem to have lost your way.

Is it the books you read or the things you see that make you turn your head?

Because it seems like you turn your back more often than before.

Now I know it's something different; colour has drained from your face.

Laughter lines are now just wrinkles; worry seeps into your veins

Those words... those cutting words….

Remember a girl that use to be colourful?

That would toss her hair back at the boys and the colour would rush down their bodies,

and she would stand with a grin,

she knew she would win,

at just about anything to do with luck.

Remember a girl that use to have spirit?

And she would weep at a crying child,

and she would parade around in her colours,

and she would raise the hopes of peers,

and she would get rid of your fears,

because you let her get to you.

I remember that girl who had a colourful spirit.

There's a boy that remembers that colourful spirit,

as he saw her turn her head,

as he saw her turning into a shadow,

as she turned into the dark.

The morning mirror sees me getting paler each day.

The afternoon cleansing says that i'm still the same.

And though I try to manipulate my mind it never seems to change.

I try to see this life I lead as something real to me.

Something tangible that i've created, a masterpiece to claim.

Hindsight is a privilege I just haven't created yet.

Give me a few more years and a few more men to spark my tears,

and i'll be fine.

I'll have something to contrast my sorrow to,

yeah i'll be fine.

I heard a lot of laughter, and I heard a lot of chanting; chanting my name

And I knew I could do it, if I just put my mind to it, but something was holding me back.

I couldn’t shrug off the feeling of a life left unfinished.

Of loopholes that are beyond my control; because I could never take control.

And I could never put a key into a lock, or put a foot into an open door.

I could never grasp the concept of letting someone get to me, or becoming someone else, or believing in what I needed to believe in.

I guess I can be vulnerable for a while, and act out compassionately towards it.

I guess I can pretend to understand your pain, or how you deal with your sorrow.

But I don’t think I ever will, not for now at least.

I’ll be the first to admit, that I'm caught up in my own thoughts.

All my unnecessary complaints that I know are all bullshit, mean a lot to me now, and I'm trying to get them out.

But where will I put them? Misery loves company, but it’s also quite vain.

So I’ll have to stay away from you for now, and I'm sorry for the wait.

But I’ll make it up to you, I know I will.

Because once I'm done with spring cleaning, we’ll have beautiful summer days to just lie around, all night to just talk, and discuss how we’re going to slowly slip away

from all this shit we’re dealing with; all these people who are pointless.

Try to free ourselves from vanity and petty issues that stress us out.

We’ll try to strip off all our baggage, try to cut it loose from all its chains.

And we’ll be lighter than ever before, and we’ll be quicker on our feet, and it’ll be easier to get away without making a sound.

We’ll realize that all we ever needed was right next to us in this heat.

More like right beside me, as I try to keep my smile to a reasonable size, but it’s getting harder because it’s really getting wide.

You’re doing something right, I'm sure of it; I just can’t put my finger on it.