There is a voice inside my tired skull the color of the sun
when I wake I meditate beneath her rays and learn to love
child of ugly cityscape
you make ungrateful seem logical
prodigal daughter of acrylic paints
coloring grace upon your obstacles
There is a hand I yearn to grab
my past is a crying disfigured soul
one day i'll mend the bridges
if you'll criss so we can cross the holes
I want to fit like stockton grins into the niches of your wings
we're cold and I freeze flying
we're cold and I freeze flying
you make excuses for your beauty
how do you thunder humble?
I want to knit you crumbling bits of warmth i've collected in Stockton Summers
There is a girl inside my house
and Im lying in her face
dreaming of my honesty
to keep from scaring her away
you say you get hurt all too easily
and that is beautiful to me
when I paint the panes of society
i will press you to me gently
and kiss your tired eyes
softly humming in your voice
streams of sun color
warm as I am running
fairy of my fantasy
berry of the trees
i tell you that I love you every day
glad no one is listening
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