And so.It is a platonic love affair, I'm afraid.
nostalgia, maybeIt used to be that I was a good kid. That is, before my innocence dissappeared forever in some magician's trick gone wrong. Now you see it, now you don't. Now she's a sweet little girl, Now he's a lost sailor in his own mind. Now he's got a thousand things pressing down on him Now he's going to break... going... going... gone.nostalgia, maybe
But it's hard to remember these things
when you're pushing three million light years a second racing on a downward spiral with the wind running through your hair.
ordinary revolutionVibrations tearing through the body calculations; miscommunications,ordinary revolution
Ordinarily, it's just an echo but tonight, it's a call to arms.
Shadows moving through the mind distractions. Refractions of the meaning twisted into a new shape so grotesque it's unrecognisable.
Ordinarily, it's just a sound but tonight, it's a war cry.
Emotion pumping through the soul rhythm and time, feels like a pulse in a forgotten room of mirrors where every breath tastes gritty and beige.
Ordinarily, it's just a song but tonight,
&n
my miss sunshinetears mingling with the rain water tracks down your face leaving dark lines in your perfect mask smile, girl, and sing your song put on your powder once more. touch up your painted lips and never let them see thatmy miss sunshine
you too are human, vulnerable as a paper butterfly paper buttefly in the palm of my hand, beating your wings to dust against the world, enslavement, salvation somewhere along the way the two must have blended close your eyes, butterfly. so heavy, the weight of being hope. hush, sing the walls of
your pink silk prison a
Everything and Nothing.I have been a thousand people I have lived a thousand lies and seen my own one thousand deaths in one thousand pairs of icy eyes. Trying on these different masks, a dream of being free I've played a thousand parts but which me is really me? Don't bother casting anchor; I'm already lost at sea. driftwood on the endless tide; there's nothing left to be. More than anything, a window or a mirror on a shelf; look at me, you see right past, or only see yourself. I think I see the answers, but they vanish in the mist. Untill finally, the lightEverything and Nothing.
Princessshe's standing in a corner allPrincess
alone - it's nothing new. she's strange so people stay away. her world is spinning, the bright lights and music pounding hard through her mind dulls her senses and her eyes till all she sees, all she knows is the harsh quick flash of the pink-tinted searchlights making their way through the people she knows they'll reach her someday someone will find her someday and "excuse me, princess" someone says as they push past her - she is thrown on her hands and knees, the crowd is laughing, laughing, she is
Sleeping Child
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and the reason that i laugh and breathe is oh love, and the reason i do not fall into this street is love.
-e.e. cummings
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