| and don't be a star, it's such a drag
take care of yourself, don't begin to lag
it's a hard life to live, so live it well
i'll be your friend and not in pretend
i know you girl in all situations they say old habits die hard. i say they're better off dead,
cause you were bitter and cold, but still you burned me alive.
you held the match to my skin and poured the fuel on the fire.
you're not my favourite mistake. you're just a simple regret. 
your class, your caste, your country, sect, your name or your tribe
there's people always dying trying to keep them alive.
but if the world could remain in a frame like a painting on a wall.
then i think we would see the beauty.
then we would stand staring in awe at our still lives posed like a bowl of oranges,
like a story told by the fault lines and the soil.
if you stay too long inside my memory
i will trap you in a song tied to a melody
and i will keep you there so you can't bother me i am so much more without you than i ever was with you
i would have never realised that if you hadn't never left me for her.
this is where i start to miss you more than i can bare
i hate this distance in between us, i don't think it's fair. no one told me the right way, the right way to go about this
so i'll figure it out for myself,
`cause how much is too much to give you?
well i may never know, so i'll just give until there's nothing left. 
if home is where the heart is,
then my home is where you are, my home is where you are.
it's getting oh so hard to spend these days without my heart. dead, like a candle you burned out;
spill the wax over the spaces left in place of angry words.
scream, to be heard, like you needed any more attention;
throw the bottle, break the door, and disappear. 
in the fight between my heart and mind, no one really wins this time.
michael angelo said the best way to judge the essential elements of a sculpture is to throw it down a hill and the unimportant pieces will break away.
sometimes life is like that, it tosses us down a hill.
when we reach the bottom, only the important things are left, and that's when our vision clears.
that's when we hold on tight to what we know, while hope stirs inside us.
it's all a matter of perspective.
it's such an easy surrender when we become pretenders sending dreams up in balloons that never land
you’ve given up drinking to be with somebody you knew.
and you tried to get into the bible, but it never got into you.
i wanted to see you walking backwards,
to get the sensation of you coming home
i wanted to see you, walking away from me
without the sensation you're leaving me alone.
here comes the rain again, falling from the stars.
drenched in my pain again, becoming who we are.
as my memory rests, but never forgets what i lost. 
lucky stars and fairy tales
i'm gonna bathe myself in a wishin' well
pretty scars from cigarettes
i never will forget, I never will forget
the trauma's lead to a bottomless despair
but i'd rather feel the sorrow than act like i don't care
all religion, my friend, is simply evolved out of fraud, fear, greed, imagination, and poetry.
so you're going to be institutionalized.
you'll come out brainwashed with bloodshot eyes.
you won't have anything to say, they'll brainwash you until you see their way. 
and then i felt the scrapes from the slippery subway grate,
oh how you laughed at my complete lack of grace,
but i could not recall a more perfect fall,
cause when i looked up into your eyes it didn't hurt at all.
impossible is just a big word thrown around by small men who find it easier to live in a world they've been given than to explore the power they have to change it.
impossible is not a fact, it's an opinion.
impossible is not a declaration, it's a dare.
impossible is potential.
impossible is temporary.
impossible is nothing.
my grandfather's name was moon,
because his eyes were bright and round and no amount of time or liquor could dull them.
my grandmother's name was joy, because it spilled out of her heart and bathed her precious children in its warmth and there was happiness in life beyond the sorrow and the pain
paranoia is haunting you and all these dirty looks, well they are right on cue.
you're full up to the brim with that, "he said, she said," trash.
you exist behind your keyboard and then you're gone in a flash.
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