too long to not have peeked through and seen the right kids on the floor. Another settled score on a foreign shore is nothing worth dying for anymore. Worn down, unsure, long days make
I watched the fireworks explode, and from your shoulders I could see a different world. No lies, no hate, no fear, no pain, just flashes of blue and
On a day, when I'm feeling incomplete, buried in my bedsheets. Can't pretend, that no matter how I bend, I'm not the square peg in my circle of friends
You know the drill, it's been a hard time for a long time. I wish there was something I could do to make this alright, soon you'll be fine. I've made
stronger than addiction and decay. You are the one who got away, and now we?re forced to stand by helpless and watch you sinking like your coast in the pacific waves. And
roads, and feeling more alive than I?ve ever felt at home. Still it?s not right that everything I love gets lost between the push and pull of the ego
t think there?s something I would trade for the phone calls and the time I've spend awake. 'Cause last night I lied awake and watched her sleeping next to me, and
keeping me from sinking in the deep end? And all I can do is stall while the plans we make become grit in the storm drain?s teeth, and the rain is
For all intensive purposes I'm dead. The alarm clock sets my fate and tonight this place means nothing. Just concrete walls dressed in photographs
would you do if you were me? Give up, forget, and go back to sleep. And I believe that heaven is like her ocean eyes, deeper than mountains climb. And
I've been following the steam trail of her breath on these winter streets, running from an early death. And she's everything I need, want, and can't
face, and I?ve been forced to admit that the slightest weight could bury me. And now the leaves are turning on the trees and there?s a map between me and
oh its make believe, and we're all we need. that its make believe, But the ins and outs, the hides and seeks of shaky faith and my modern belief, that
again? Back to Dan and Jose teasing us in your basement chairs. Back to Braeburn days and the way best friends were better there. Nothing gold ever cared. And
t love you like she does, but still she bows her head and prays that you forgive me. So what does that make me? The unloving, ungrateful son of a saint? What if that makes
away, and there?s nothing that we can say. You?re leaving me and I realize this, hell has an address and I?m standing on its doorstep. And later on
The sun is coming up in the Monday sky, and I could toss and turn until these sheets caught fire. It's an eight-semester game of chance in this lonely
