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where are the lines drawn.
Imagine if we lived
Under the weather
We would never be found
Never discovered
If everything goes wrong
If it's one more endless night
You know there always tomorrow
when does the story end? |
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I could be acute if i wanted.
The Absence Of Forgiveness says:
you choose the most depressing lyrics.
jas - red would mean you love me, and blue would be mean you cared, but black my heart when left alone to cold and killing stares says:
hah y do you say that
The Absence Of Forgiveness says:
cause if they werent you wouldnt choose them
jas - red would mean you love me, and blue would be mean you cared, but black my heart when left alone to cold and killing stares says:
lol
jas - red would mean you love me, and blue would be mean you cared, but black my heart when left alone to cold and killing stares says:
well its errr
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| go.
see if i care.
keep kissing me; it might make it better. |
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| oh, instincts are misleading
you shouldn't think what you're feeling
they don't tell you what you know you should want.
ivory lines lead
-dcfc
We lie and we live in it.
What changed was gone in a flicker of light and theyre not who they thought you were anymore. Never was. So come lie with me in the fields brimming with dandelions and hayfever. We think wee free. Emotive and irrational, so vivacious. Dreaming obscene. |
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| And I hope you find a perfect place
where skies are beautiful all of the time.
That's all that matters pretty pretty.
And I know that's all that you could care about.
There's no reason why you can't.
No reason why I should try to go on anymore
My reasons all gone.
No reason why you should,
Try to make excuses to make me feel alright.
Excuses call for stupid reasons.
And I know that it's not much that I can offer right now.
Just give me one little second
And I will try my hardest
To make you feel like I'm someone else.
I stare at your profile while you're watching the tv in the fading light, try to sketch it in my mind. images committed to memory and ever remaining, silver flashing on your skin. and i try not to write about it too beautifully, cause its only you watching tv.
I scrawl a make-believe portrait in my sketchbook. and i decide it doesnt do you justice because the perspective is awful, awful lines, bad drawing. And i'm perfectly aware i am supposed to be doing the yearbook report and i am not. concentration seems to slip from my pen to the paper into indulgence and nothingness.
if it wasn't for you
100 thank you's
if this is love
fairy tales never came true
judies are black in full bloom
and i died in the womb
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