What can I say, I got my muse back. I love you, muse!
I am a (love)sick person
I'm a flower at the end of its season
Don't steal my poison, I love to feel it
Don't take my halo, I live to heal it
Stones and hearts still are broken
Hugs and kisses for every day we haven't spoken
My lips may be sealed by the words of a hypocrite
but I love you more than I care to admit
Mirror, mirror on the wall,
are you gonna kill them all?
A ruby red for the skull -
tell me, friend, what's the future foul?
"Wishing wells and shooting stars,
magic spells in secret jars
birthday candles, rocking cradles
Hide-and-seeks and midnight tricks;
Chases underneath the rays -
little phoenixes of olden days...
That is all the past will say,
so may the bridges you burn light the way"
I once had a vision - a dream dressed in wisdom:
Miracles happen, though not the ones that we hope for
So don't look for what's lost, or you'll drown in the downpour
Yet halos won't remain,
and flowers will be slain
Words will stay crooked,
hearts will be flooded
But I will stay and wait for the arson -
I am the hypocrite, I'm a sick of love person
No comments:
Post a Comment