What i remember, from memory.

Clear lense, squished from car tyre snow,

Grey hat.

Red coat, lumberjack black squares

collar popped.

mid shot(. Angle.) Small face, big eyes

wearing the smirk that births the

smile that shows the,

teeth that look that,

brings me to my knees
but if it is snowing you
wouldn't notice.

Not in this moment, walking forward,

eye contact with a lense. Blue scarf

scaffolding to the left, where untouched

whiteness rests. thick eyebrows, brown eyes:

Wolflike. Eye contact with a smile.

brown eyes, big enough to engulf

turn, you think you know the street

All we really know is she's fashionable, has

a thin frame padded for the cold with cool clothes

walking along a well travelled, worked-on road,

is taking a moment to turn while trudging through snow

and is in love with whoever is taking her photo.

brooklyn's september.

in a world where every player is a boss
and all marriages end in divorce
and you don't really have drive
unless you drive a porsche
of course
it's easy to feel when you stand out
you come up short
so many fights i've fought
so many times i've lost
too proud to ask when it'll stop
too foolish to know what
I'm even giving my all for.
The love of a woman
The respect from a crowd
The acceptance of nay-sayers
my hands are often clasped together
in the hope i'll think of a decent prayer
one day i'll strive to be something better
because all i want is
the acceptance from nay-sayers
the respect of a bunch of clappers
The legs of Jasmine Kara
It's been a year and i still love her
from across new york,
they'd save up money to see her
by day lap-dancer at night soul singer
never a day she didn't have her shit together
small in height, but filled out just right
her beauty came from her love for life
she had nyc tattooed on her neck
we watched friends on her laptop
snuggled together on her single bed
never have i had so much respect for a person i had just met
she sung to let out the pain, it was never about fame
it's been a year now and i don't see things the same
i see every player trying to be a boss
but they never know what to be a boss of,
soul singers singing porcelain songs, hollow with no gospel
i see people dying to drive a porsche with nowhere to drive to
i stop relationships before they start because i've been so tainted
from the knowledge that they all seem to run the same course
it's a world where no one does what they do for love
it's a reality game show for who's the biggest pretender
and every artist wants to shout on how they're "not"
how they're "real" but still secretly hoping their reality
will actually take them to the top.
it's enough to make a talented artist want to stop.

thank god I'm not going to.
these thoughts will be sold
babyface eyes with an old soul
in a search to grow so i'll no longer come up feeling short
one day i'll make enough money to say "next stop, new york."

got bad to do

Phone calls and hang-ups and step toe and son re-runs.
rustling sheets lovely sandwiches and jackets as presents.

ripped-tights, made-teas, passive-aggressive arguments.

jokes. everywhere, museums new-books, cuddle, television

show-her-off parties shrugs roll-off the tongue insults

lots of drink being sick pale people warm-up breakfasts

eggs, bacon, mushrooms loving looks between menus
promises from eye contact that have one rush to the flat
stroked arms, resting heads denim daisy dukes removed
stretched stomachs in flips, smiles no longer reserved

old streets walked on spent in awe- but one's too fast

press-ups towards late-night runs to more aspirations

cold-shoulders no eye contact new looks no respect given

moonlit bodies slide with anger, train seats stare into space

inspiring work inspired from smiles laughing at them

all men that try to be something they're not, what we'll never be

no answers too scared to ask questions too proud for pain

far away looking back at yesterday try to find out what it meant

replay every event wanting another body that's heaven sent

golden green olive kisses mismatched lovers circumstances 

deal the blows take the pain, we eventually stand all the same

and if i had the choice yes i'd do it all again.

pointless but sounds nice.

I'm too young for the schedules shoved between trains and busses fitting in structures my scriptures are never finished and the way perfection moves me is relentless, we all go through it, my messy haired-self has bruises from guilt, I'm never where i want to be always going back to where i was too soon. busy but naturally lazy, it's like I'm reluctantly happy. And now my free time is spent on what many look at as a hobby- but it's a way of life, like power, like responsibility, like spider-man, in a way.
If you think about it.

tv lights.

My fingers type away at a breakneck pace, the sound fills the room followed by a little laughter. a giggle. if you will.

i didn't anticipate this. you. here. but i did dream of it. what was most magical is that the moments we shared where never the ones i wrote. or what i thought what romance was. not pizza express but greggs, though there was a smile on your face the whole time. consequently that put a smile on mine. We're watching the wild bunch. your head is on a pillow that is on my lap. we haven't kissed yet. or confessed our need to connect. and your head is on a pillow. which is on my lap. You're beginning to fall asleep and I'm almost freaked out by how effortless this all is.

I walk you to your room and tuck you in, i could have made a move, maybe you would have welcomed it, but i didn't and weirdly enough I'm thankful for it because, I've never known courtship and evidently, despite my years watching disney,

I didn't know romance.

Another walk home now. I've lived on these streets for so long, yet, never felt admitted to the club of street-dwellers. trapped in bypass, constantly walking through and past, but truly my journey is living, but my journey is spent living the same thing. Tonight these streets see me walk slow, look up and take in the view with a new perspective, My mood is reflective, almost glad for my lonesome nights, in such a crowded space not enough hold out- just cash in but it's not worth it, if another could appreciate what her hand in mine meant, they'd understand why i walk with this slow-motion-skip in my step.

The body moves too fast for the mind to comprehend the situation, under covers our energy combined pumps an adrenaline so strong the bitten necks and pulled hair is painless and- enthusiastic legs wrapped round squeeze out hidden tears that fall on the skin you've longed for-for years. I close my eyes and when they open i lose my best friend forever, and i make a silent promise to make sure i don't fuck this up. Because i don't know much. but this is a lifestyle i could get used to, and it turns out i like to be touched.

walking home alone

The city Lights up
haunts are glowing
central london
left of the centre
down the corridor
so close
it just makes the dark darker)
physical closeness but loneliness)
but the doors open
shows about to begin
everyone looking at me
do i belong-

and i step on, the floorboards creek

now i move in toe but it feels too slow.

Camden Morning.

was walking down camden town early saturday morning

observing the remains of what was a frantic friday night.

a shuffling drunk, fallen fried chicken and crushed cans,

an eerie stillness surrounds, looks cold, but don't feel so.

Leaving the flat of a girl i was once crazy for a year ago

Looking back i actually snuck out- we where drunk.

Not quite the way i wanted it to go down, but i guess it never is. 

London stories never end like they where written in hollywood,

London don't end the way you expect- that's why london's good.

She kissed me and i kissed her, 

i don't know what more i could have asked for.

a smile springs on my face wondering why i snuck out that door

and if she's awoken yet, or maybe she doesn't know i've left

maybe she's happy, maybe I've become another woman's regret

being a londoner it's probably the last thing i expect.

say it right.

I drew a quick breath

as the rain hit my neck,

to shield short pain my collar was lifted

fact is my skin's always been a little sensitive.

and I thought: like feist- i feel it all

but like dizzee- i stand up tall

as if everything i see is apart of me

and I'm embodied in everybody

but then everyone moves in different ways
so much so i get to the point where
i can't find myself some days.

So yeah, i've been needing some help lately

don't yet leave I need to listen to someone other than jay-z,

telling others "I'm not depressed Just stressed"

not depressed just stressed.

to everything and all I've given my best

apart from myself. With that I need your help.

words hurt but not as much as fists do,

that's what i thought until i realized

i wasn't strong enough to say- I miss you.

"so, how's it going?"

"you alright?" "How am I?--- Okay"
although recently it's felt like

every word I've said to you I've

been saying the wrong way.
Like, if i could just, say it right.

Your hair was the lamp post.
You hair was a lamp post giving light

to a night almost lost

(hear what I'm saying)

of all the videogames I played donkey kong

country was the best. but that doesn't matter

because you're the coolest girl I ever met. No

as soon as the feel of life began to get me bored

you didn't so much reinvent the wheel

but give me a hoverboard

it's hip hop on an accordion

tin- pan blues with a heavy base

something that works though at first

you'd have though it was out of place

so how can you expect me to understand

and stand and watch you hold his hand?

I mean,

he does what he can

I do what i will

he says what they say

i say what i feel

he's keeping it real

While I'm trying to live a dream

for years i've been cooking a scheme
and i don't even know what that means
like we're some carbonara dream team
hear what I'm saying I'm not saying it right
hear what I'm saying I'm not saying it right

look,

your relationship with him is respected, really

i really do accept it

I just don't understand why our friendship

has to feel so contraceptive?

as if we're not connected

acting like you never felt it

on that kilburn station underground night

when the rain and light hit your hair just right

and i suppose you've never been able to know

for when we kissed your eyes where closed

but me, i found it too hard to believe

so mine where open

trust me, in that moment, 

time moved in slow motion and

in each raindrop was our reflection

that's why I still have these emotions

two years by and I'm still haunted

by this beautiful past

and it's only when I'm looking back

this new future has hits me too fast

too hard are these two hearts to last

further than.. us? fuck.
hear what I'm saying

I'm not saying it right.

hear what I'm saying I'm not saying it right

Hear what I'm saying I'm not saying it right

It's not about you me or him

it's about the loss of love at first sight

to the same thing

it wasn't about the fame

it was about hitting the stage
and no longer feeling the same old same

I'm not insane for saying this, right?

just understand, i don't need all this

to be up there, i would pause

every applause

and give back every clap

because when with you

I didn't have to act

and i don't even want it back

i know it sounds distorted

to want to go back to when

i wanted to go forward
because what was
still is and that's flawed

and you don't need to know this

but as i go on and ramble
as i always seem to do

i get closer

and i realize, I'm was saying it right.

I just... didn't want to say it.

Brimstone ballet.

Kid lifts his head up

To the cloud bursting with water

A beautiful release showering the dirty cement

Absolving the bloody pavement

Then he laughs, realizing

After all these years

He still can’t tell the rain

From the tears

Baby steps.

Two pounds change
spent on chalk farm chicken

with varicose veins

the sky is dark blue

in the type of winter

you wade through

In my hand is a cold can

of mirinda, the poor mans

fanta, but i love orange soda.

The bus comes slightly ahead of me

so i sort of jog and quietly hide my fatigue

It's more of a rumble and my head rattles

on the window. The light blue bus going past

hampstead heath musics played from behind

my seat I'm writing about london clouds

then throw an evening standard away from me

the front cover was about the casualties of haiti.

Can my hand be held.

Out the pocket comes a palm full of hopes, lines carved defining the way he copes.

fancy watch on the wrist means doing better than feeling, the reaching hand gropes

honey to bee is a lovely way to describe her attraction, like something off the telly

his hand reaches out of a pocket that's sweaty. that's the pocket man not the palm

A jealous pocket has no lining it goes on forever. a home for one without a lover

a hand held out is the scariest thing ever a cold silence on the busiest street it is

goodbye prison, goodbye jacket, it's october and it's either gonna be real cold or...

and, sliding into first place in the life of this man comes this girl by a country mile

a connection that's perfect: gentle with a grip, a loving squeeze that brings a smile

science can't define love so don't expect any answers on how their hands fit like a glove.

around the world

i lived your worst fear

when i arrived,

but was not near

to you

to you

have you gone and strayed
she asked
if i'd changed
i said it's true
to you

to you
my apologies are real
I love another,
and no longer feel
for you
for you

now my heart is seasoned
across the world
the loss was lessened
I'm new
for who
for who?

see saw

I see so
I saw the fall.

To hurt back

Or feel at all.

cried out

but it never shows.

the rush from my dear

no one knows

bleeding my soul

flows as London grows

a sacrifice so small

and it gives deja vu

of that time I talked to you

When my smile was so wide

though you said there was pain in my eyes

and after three more drinks I confessed

the depression was becoming harder to hide

as it was becoming that not much else was inside

You saw so

I let myself fall

to be the dream

we should have seen

now reality is abstract

watching my friends

be all these animals

that have turned on thou

yes, now the dogs growl

vultures nestle

wolfs hide and

eagles glide

I. always. run.

and turn side-on (wide)

have the wave drag

me with the rip tide

swim along the coast

towards the woman

who loves me most.


And that was her, my lady by the bar

she promised me a world of marionettes

She'll pull every string so i'll know what happens next

and her heart will be mine. so everything will be... fine.

as the woman leaned in to kiss, i told her this

I sincerely hope one day

you meet a guy

Who loves you

the way you love me

And I hope

that the two of you

will be happy

But smiling alone

has become a task

My love is something

you shouldn’t ask

The brimstone ballet

Every morning, before my tea, I shed a few tears
daybreak: cold and bright as the bathroom light
staring into the sink, searching in vain for lost years
daybreak: blinding harsh coldness pours from the sky
The window view confirms I'll have to face these fears
a desolate london street, --- ----- ---- --- ------
shower burns, razor cuts, must. Think. Clear.

Step into the outside, turn up young, let him play
the world is grainy, falling lines seeing all in cctv
If there were six-guns at my waist I could face the day
Leave the country, wont escape your thoughts
Got to step up son, wakings the first test of many
While the ones I love, get hurt and go astray

I bob and weave the pedestrians coming my way

I tap my feet, nod my head, to the brimstone ballet.

What's inside

When the moon falls to the bottom of the sky
And the plants reach feathered clouds
My headed thoughts of pillows
Filled with black haired widows ugly
Blonde monsters at least ultimate warriors
Un-starved vultures to be the prettiest
Of all.
When my mind can comprehend
A helping hand cannot repent I shall
Breathe sea air. Jump from the rocks into despair
Hoping for a woman, longing for a friend
Begging for a sibling to hear my to hear my
Cry for a little more time. 
A day to get my shit
Together so I can weather the storm that is life
Because whatever thunder does,
If it is not for my advantage it will hurt
Hits not through but just in
like a slow bullet shot from
an old gun at the hands of a
classic cowboy wearing tattered rags
Worn out shoes; moccas I could only
Hope to walk a mile in.
Thoughts of cowboys eventually lead
to thoughts of you
the way most thoughts eventually do, 
I grab a backpack and fill it with
the memories of a kite hill view
a smile of someone I thought I knew
two lost heartbeats and a crickelwood crew
but nothing from you apart from the feeling
of horses riding without owners you distilled in me
and sadly, cream. Fortunately, dream: nothing
but a thing. and age ain't nothin' but a number
so like a fine wine I'll slumber
in the middle of summer of middle-
Oh America
I am yours.
the same way to the grave a hurst roars
or panic towards the sight of unlocked doors
So when the sun rises higher than heaven
and when the love of one stops me guessin'
and when we're all alone., together.
Have him hold my place for now honey
so when I get my shit together
(as I said earlier)
The storm that is life can just feel like a
summer breeze so weez wheeze like
our heart has sneezed at my shocking
nose bleedz. so he can take my place
but let him know, any time I want it
I could take it, but something inside me says
if i had it, I probably wouldn't even want it
so let me run. run like sonic collecting
golden rings chaos emeralds only things;
just like dreams. Just like age. Just like money,
and I think of money
and just as always
I think of you
and how you struggled, what you had to go through
Oh America
I am you!
Razor love is playing.
I wonder if my love could cut clean through
and just like all wonder
if things could get better if they found something new
what do you want with me?
some days you forget how I should be dealt with
but it's my fault.
I keep forgetting the very sight of you
causes pain but i love you so much
I'll do it again.
and i think of hurt
and just like all thoughts...
Oh America
Help me pull through.

same old.

1.

Hanging out with sadness makes one lonely

for sadness always makes terrible company

but when all talent you find becomes weary

and when it's said love gets in the way of success

(especially if you're in love with an actress)

one would wonder;

isn't love-when shared- a success in itself?

Or just a veil masking your global inadequacy?

I'm banking on the latter

2.

waiting for father and roswell plays

but my mind cannot help but stray

i wonder if she cares still

if she knows where i can be found

maybe its the result of a rebound

entirely probable statistically

logical, at least with the pen and pad

there is still entertainment to be had

but chest aches, every time

a breath escapes the shoulders fall

the eysbrows tense and always

walking serious. hah. supposedly

To get L-one off a mind there are possibilities

a fuck that is quick should do the trick

but to go down any old road again is a trek

swear down one must get out of L-D-N

cannot walk down same old buildings again

Every week is the same cycle.

only thing one should really do is escapeescapeescape!

E-to the- L ope. S-to the-O how 

                                                  'bout 

                                                   we 

                                                   go 

                                                   chi-ca-go!

23.10.08

It's a grey
windy day
And I'm only
Wearing two layers,
A nasty chest cold
Probably on the way
 
Witherspoons
 Interview at four
As if that's anything to live for.
I think I might not...
But there is no reason
for being here.
 
To stay or to go?
To and fro
This decision goes
and while  I try
to get my mind clear
A dead friend
has started whispering
In my ear.
 
A heavy burden
I think
She's had to bear
Sure I want to help
But her
Troubles
And possible
Suicidal
Thoughts I don't
want to hear
Because going back
Half a year
She had a knack for
Absolving all my fear.
 
And where
One half wants to
Hold her
Make sure
She never sheds
A single tear
Another half
wants to Tyson-ise
her fucking ear
to and fro this decision-
Oh no it's ten
To four
Got an interview
for boredom

Winter months.

Come to north London
Where we observe two lovers
 Who are unable to carry on.
Come closer, into Tufnell park
As they get together and later depart,
Every winter they play the same part.

She be- strong and vibrant but can’t
Help but become burnt out when the clouds
Become swollen and orange bricks
Are no longer golden despair doth knock
To him she must flock, runs
Hoping he’s still there, he still cares

He fucks the summer away just to forget
the day her and he crossed paths and never
does his amnesia last, going without her
becomes the longest fast, so he waits
for the snowflakes to fall hoping when
Frost comes she, like he, can no longer stand tall

One way or another their paths cross in winter
When neither have nothing to lose and to their
Inner most desires they surrender confessing

Things they really shouldn’t but believing in
This love means believing in living and when
They’re together living finally feels better

“please don’t let these days end, we’ve messed up
and I don’t want to mess up again, you’re my lover
you’re also my best friend only on you can I depend,
now it’s so cold out- trust- with me it’s warm
don’t leave me this time stay in from the storm”

“as sure as I breathe I believe I will never
leave for you are my rock my soul you keep me strong
and like likewise only you can I depend on don’t worry
my dear you have nothing to fear I’ll keep from the cold
and rest in these arms until I leave this world”

the love made in stone feels so heartfelt
but while the snow melts the promises break
the stone becomes weathered and partners weary
can’t help but believe the world circle theory if
only they admitted their partners faults, so desperate
to see perfection, so shocked when they see a person.

She witnesses the cloudy sky die at the hands
Of spring but doesn’t understand why he
Wants to stay in when there is such a wide
World to explore constantly told she is adored
But honestly feels trapped and bored this isn’t
What livings for- was she blinded by love before?

He knows winter has faded and is scared that
The love is fated to end bitter like last year
So scared he’s trying to keep her near but every
Time he pulls she pushes harder doesn’t understand
What she’s being distant for after all he’s the rock
the soul- is there anymore he can do for her?

The quiet grumblings bubble over while the
Sky gets hotter the flowers do bloom but not any
Larger than the impending sense of doom that follows
The two something is up something is awry then one
Night after a drunken party the expletives fly
And to the winter romance we say goodbye.

“You’re giving me actions but no feelings, reasons or why’s
And when you tell me love me it feels like a lie.
It’s as if you’re keeping secrets, made me so broke up inside
Yesterday I snuck on your facebook, and fucking cried for turning
Into one of those guys, you’ve robbed me of my pride”

“you fool you fucking fool I love you so much yet you don’t
stop accusing and thinking im just using I can’t keep on
guaranteeing love I can’t keep on promising if you do not believe,
im so trapped here you’re so on-me-all-the-time I need to…
I need to go”

The words come out of nowhere hitting the two harder
than, unless you’ve been in love, could never know.
The two depart leaving half a heart, only able to love
half as much, both become- no in fact both succumb to
an un-feeling of being numb, when with new lovers they’re
not loved nor lonesome just trapped under a summer sun

September if anything is a time for change when
Summer wanes and we embrace a baptism of rain-
She’s soaked in it as the clouds came from nowhere
In a short skirt she’s embarrassed and cold feeling
Too old to make such a mistake then she hears the
Pitter-patter over her, she’s standing under whose umbrella?

Septembers clouds are London’s cover a grey duvet
Rolling over her, soaked wet knowing if he
Helps he’ll regret it but fuck it she’s soaked and

We must help others and well she’s still looking
Good as ever he stands over, she turns to see her
Old lover he feels the way she looks. She looks in wonder.

They get together and later depart,
Every winter they play the same part.
Though maybe this time, in September-
A time for change- they can try for a fresh
Start, able to rearrange their broken hearts
and see if instead, a friendship can last.

                                             
“how you been?”                                 “I’ve been okay”
“still living round here?”                   “no I moved”
“Really”                                                “yeah but just to archway”
                                                               “you’re soaking wet”                        
“yeah I realise that.”                          "you want, a hot drink or something?"        

Winter coat.

The winter coat kept the chill from my skin
I walked through a twilight, street-lit central London
It was London but a quieter, emptier one
And despite wearing such a large coat
Being alone on what’s usually
One of the busiest streets of the world
It started to get a little cold
I had left from the beginning of an after party
A place where the conversations no longer seemed to suit me
I remember it dawning that
This was a re-occurring case
Though this was the earliest I had left such a place
I swigged from a small bottle of scotch
Only for myself I had bought
Hoping to drink the whole thing in a night
Without giving a second thought
To my sobriety or the dip in the road ahead
But while crossing that road
I stumbled and fell
Twisted my ankle
Needles to say, 2008 hadn't started too well
 
After being fed-up of waiting for any cars to drive by
And failing to see any stars in London’s sky
I realized I had been lying in the middle of a road
For too long
So I decided to get up
And walk on
Although it was now done with a limp
 
I was about to venture home
But as I stepped on the bus I was struck with images
Of cold rooms
Empty beds
And microwave dishes.
It’s an indescribable moment
When you’d rather walk alone
Than spend a night in an supposed home.
I didn't know what it meant
Just felt a need to keep my feet to the pavement.
 
Then shown to me was the only soul that night I would see
Of course on my central London journey
I had passed others
But souls were no longer with these people
Sold to the bottles and to the needle
And other things I’ll hopefully never know or comprehend
Selling souls for objects
Then again, on a night like this
I could almost understand
 
She too,
Was alone
And notably without a coat of her own
But her dress was vintage prada
Her hair was up
She sat on a step leading into pret
I was thinking about her back on that glass
And how cold glass can get
Now I’m not one for talking to strangers
But at this moment not talking seemed stranger
“Are you cold?” I asked her
She lifted her head
I saw the street light stare
And get lost in her hair
Her eyes connected with mine
And something instantly
Inside of me
Straightened my spine
It took her about four seconds to reply
But there was no awkwardness
The seconds flew by
 
Keep in mind what you would do
If you saw a scotch smelling, desperate looking, limping
Nineteen year old staring at you
But despite the reaction feared
She could see that she was the same as me
Or maybe it was the scotch poking out
from my pocket
Either way, she nodded and patted the space next to her
I sat and sighed as I lay by her side
“Do you want to wear my jacket?”
I don’t know why I called it a jacket
Or even why I offered it
It was my winter coat
And it was really cold
She declined
The first words she spoke to me
Were “no, it’s fine”
I really liked my winter coat
But much as I liked it on me
I couldn’t help but prefer
To want to see it on her
 
I offered scotch
And she swigged like a pro
She apologized for having nothing to offer
Though she had clearly forgot
She gave me the prêt stair central London hot spot
We laughed and exchanged
Names and trivial tales
Stories that rambled
And availed
To really nothing
But we were both laughing
So I guess it meant something
I was in a moment where
I was no longer in my own moment
But instead it was together
A time where the sky didn’t change
No cars or people passed us
No need to con or want her to be with me forever
Because there was no future and there was no past
It was a moment in time made exclusively for us
 
It was now around four
And I had managed to get the coat on her
Her head rested on my shoulder
We spent the night huddled together
Woken at around six thirty
By a disgruntled prêt employee
Who thought we were hoboes or drug addicts or something
Either way he sure didn’t want anything to do with me
 
I walked her to the Holborn underground train station
The winter coat I had convinced her to keep
To this day I’m happy she has it
Over that decision I have never lost sleep
She gave me her number
But I don’t think I could ever call her
For in that time we were the only Souls outside
On a cold twilight, street lit central London
And we were both so desperate
For someone to lean on
And one night together was all we needed
To face our day to day lives again and not become defeated
 
Maybe when a cold winter comes
And I’m in need of a friend
I’ll look for my winter coat
And we can see each other
Once again.

Lonesome road.

I used to be the man she was needing

'till she bit the hand from which she was feeding

now I'm being strong

I'm leaving

but it wont be long

because i've been walking along

this lonesome road too long

I was just a stranger

before i met her

another weary traveller

in a lonesome bar

drinking alone

too scared to go home

because home was just too far

Such cold nights

hurt the weakest the most

for there where no eyes

in the london sky

so if I didn't make it back

not even the stars

could watch me die

I would feel so hollow

and I'd wonder why, asking

"where did the man inside me go?"

Perhaps i left him in the ring

knocked cold from that killer blow

She used to look at me

like I was the only thing

She needed to see

now if they ever truly connect

all I'll get is boredom and dread

as if what i will say

could ruin what's left

and it's true

if i start talking

I don't know what will come out next

so we're trapped in a stalemate

bound together from fear

of loneliness

But I loved her and I gave her all i had to give

now i've got nothing else within

I'm withered and thin

weathered and old

to think i once stayed in

from the cold

For loving her is like

walking on the sun

you know i think it just

can't be done

from the sorrow i try to run

but I'm tethered to her

on a rope made of history

there is no doubt

she'll be the death of me

I will O.D. on misery.

I used to be the man she was needing

'till she bit the hand from which she was feeding

now the dream does pour

Like the whiskey I'm drinking

the glass feels good

within my haggard paws

to hold me again

I wish you would

to die my friend

I wish I could.