You’re young. You’ll feel better. You’ll get better Eventually. So much time to feel better.
Don’t cry Don’t cry Don’t cry Because it’s your birthday.
She looked like innocence And felt like sin And died like grace And fell like a bird And fell like a bird
I was born of the Virgin Mary, Given life to rid earth of evil. Blood on my hands, Dirt on my hands, I’m akin with Christ Himself.
I came back from a mortal hell, But on my way home, I saw no white god, And I saw no golden spirit, And I saw no true son.
What does it feel like on the day… Does it hurt? Today, I have just realized that, And it burns. It has burned the piece of my hear…
Love starts like this: We like the same books, We like the same music, We seem like a match made in high… It crumbles like this:
He thinks I’m pretty And maybe too witty, That I was worth the fight. He claimed he’s so glad. I’m the best he’s ever had.
I dislike nothing more than Philosophy. How lazy.
The tissues know something. Even the mirror knows. My music knows it And especially my pillow. My books can see it
Winter is getting worse. Is there no justice In my punishment Brought about by my peers? I yearn to burrow in warm dirt
He helps her with her blush. She’s surging red, Velvet and soft like a rose. Her mouth’s gone dry With his wind.
That’s why she died– Because she never let anyone hold… She didn’t trust herself. She didn’t let anyone love her Or touch her
I find it funny That I raised myself From the cradle To the grave. I never got a chance to be a baby.
Dancing inside makes me sing. Music turns winter into spring. Dancing inside lights up my world. Lyrics give me wings like birds. Dancing inside all the time.