You should of dressed me in white, put flowers in my hair.
Tears lack their attachment to our good-bye.
Lavander seeks out to numb my brain.
From the repitition of you elaborate stories.
Please, not one more excuse.

I feel used, bruise confused by the song played.
The house is due for some grooming,
My eyes our drooping.
Grow a backbone your insecurities are revolting.
Try coping for a change, stop calling my name.

Please, leave I have nothing left for you here.
Can't I move on without feeling ashamed.
Behind all the clouds lies a clear true refrain.
Waiting to be Appreciated, without being Enibreated.

Drink from your own casket, I plan to be thrown into the ocean. eternally sharing my wealth. Stealthfully recognize this no longer ponders a sweeter somber together. The Leather stintch, is nausiating. Dress in your own flesh for a change, dead ones don't suit you. Pursuing the day when looking away comes easy. Needy, sucking my river bank dry. Resting on everything I now sow, repair for my own clarity. No longer clinging to what went before.

Silvery swirls dance through the sky without hast, no place to really sink its seat into. They tell with a series where they have been and plan to go. The darkness intrigues to look deeper. Small drops falls, landing on my tongue as words pour out. The rain's subtle sweetness balances out the salty air. Closing eyes helps one appreciate the melody it plays on every surface it engulfs. Lofts of high hopes with out dope. Corner stone of my own resistance towards leaving. Steps move forth gracefully proving I can dance in a puddle. The coolness runs through my toes. Oh, Oh, Can you take my hand?
Rally up my doubts, put them in that pocket over there. No, need to stare. Ask your question, place direction of where you intend to go. Low n' High, pry me open. Widen this horizon by placing your finger on the zoom button. Rooms are empty, a century of dust. This rain will create rust if I stop the wheels from spinning. Grinning a wicked smile, reels in the bate. A clean slate is so hard to encounter, no wanderer has ever come across a night clear of tides.
As the pitter patter begins to mutter, hunger fills my belly. Steady barely ready I open them once again to find the gray has moved on. Skys sit still with white as snow cottonballs. Rubbing them with a smile. The sun kisses me lightly,oh so gentle and waves good-bye....