mulberry-stained streets kiss the
souls of my shoes.
i've got no plans to follow in those
fatally famous footsteps. everything
and nothing all in one hellbent day;
tonight we climb out of our solemn ceremony crypts.
this is what Iíve been waiting for.
Reality slaps my face and screams,
into my undeafended ear.
Too many cooks in the kitchen spoil the shrew.
i wanted to bundle You up poor pure sweet baby and pull You away and
hold You so close
so nobody could hurt You.
i guess it's the things that we don't do that define us in the end.