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Drinking from the bottle is one thing until the bottle starts drinking from you..
The pages of us
are closed ever dusted by time
the hard cover of life.
neatly holds us in
where if opened still
reads so beautifully
There is no such thing as a proper goodbye. Even a warm goodbye is followed by the pang of a permanent finality.
If a door opens just a crack
I'm kicking it off the hinges and walking through it.
Everybody makes their choices and it's down to you as to whether you'll regret them.
And with my actions solid and louder than words I'm giving us the respect we both deserved.
silence is either hell or beautiful
It is never in betwen
and along the promenades of gathering/
you are the ghost
that all have seen
I am the teacher and the student to myself. In other words, my soul is talking to my soul and I'm listening intently.
and try to feel alive
Comes to pass when you must give in to what you thought was everything, is no longer.Learn your lessons, never forget, remember the love.
We share the same sun
the same rain
its only hearts
and life's a fast train
a cabin in the wood
so my feet can touch the earth
have no fear
nothing to prove
and hell is a long ago delivered
and forgotten post card
The power of that whisper
Cant wait to go to sleep
a passing glance
a bolt to the heart
spilling out my every good memory to the sidewalks,
where we were once unstoppable.
Stumbling in the dark
Testify about the things I've seen Wash my hands but they never come clean
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