So this what it sounds like… the doves are done crying. In fact, they’ve met death. I guess they’re un-flying.
Plummeting from sky and… jumping upside down, to reach ground, and say goodnight, friend. Thunder, please save my lighting.
Please save my love and life friend. The best I know, she is! The best I know we’ve been. It’s just we have our problems.
I break down and cry, she does too. How can we solve them? Is there really a problem or do we fear and start them?
Sometimes it’s just the mental. We fail in there we hit through… the glass basement where facing off is our worse decision.
It could be worse, but given… our past and prior yearning, our last, our higher learning, I think we have to earn it.
You be my armor I swear to karma, I’ll be yours.
Somehow we manage to get into the minds of opponents who notice every single move we make.
So in essence, every single move we tend to fake should be the envelope developed to seal away all their fate.
Under cake, I mean under the make up breathes a true soul. That’s what you sold to the masses.
Sowed in the mattresses to let them sleep on it unknowingly ’cause you we’re not willing, see…
You made my bed, I slept in, unwillingly. I’m silly for that move, but simply your past dues breathe light to the future…
…the present in past tense of wrong principality and harmful reality.
We live only to die. Die only for life. Smile to fight tears, but drop them in spite of fear.
So right here, your life line is my vein. I breath your addiction. Imagine me, far from fiction.
Kill the lights and listen.
Right now, in a time when I’d rather just close my eyes. Just listen to the movement.
Feel all your words in my heart until they move it. Lose it all when my eyes come to life and…
…for my life I’d choose fight before flight but I’d fly for the fight just to show you the sky.
Show you your limits, demise, and inhibit your lines from their heir and show them my fear.
Show them my terror, feed them their errors. Underestimate and trust me, you will take…
…every action I dictate to you, puppet. I love it, just fight it, say fuck it, and tough it out.
What you talk about, Willis, I talk about vivid enough to expose all your lies. Now you’re livid?
I die for this passion, my heart is a tragedy waiting to happen and now in this trap I break free of my master, the key, what they see, what I feel, it’s just two different things, so my third is a wrench in the wheels of this dream, you will fall to my tampering. Blood on this scene…
Seems I’m mistaken, when I’m told to just relax is when I need to be on my toes. I need to follow my nose.
Smell the difference in a truth and lies to pacify behind the lines of what I know and what I’m shown, ’cause there’s a difference.
Don’t tell me just to listen. Don’t tell me it’s so plain to see. Behind these eyes lies a fire soul. Please, don’t play with me.
Please, don’t lay with me in hopes of someting different when the difference is I’m far from not caring. Shit, I’m livid.
Depicted vividly, shots that I took with sympathy. But simply it’s a matter of opinion versus fact.
And this is tat for tit, hit or miss, I’m bound to hit something soon. Violent as my inner child, things I should have seen sooner.
So now with my firearm, my words, my deadly weapon. I stand in the line of fire. Me to you, who’s best then?
To make hate a technique for coping with vulnerability, is to make a mistake with a blade in a room of enemies.
So you become yourself and them too within this room of nightmares. But right here you end it all. You kill them by killing you.
Or that part you hate. Is it really that hard? You use it for your armor, are you proud of that guard?
Anyone who comes close you stand clear without ’em. You stand alone. You die alone. Now show them how you’re ’bout it.
Show them how you’ve learned to hate when love makes them doubt it. Show them how you’d love to make believers of these doubters.
Revel in their chants, “You can’t make it here without us!” Let them see your tears don’t exist to hit these flowers.
So when they tell you love, you continue just to hate. When they hit the gateway to your heart, let them wait.
Prove it to me! Let me see! Show me something different! If not, then I ask you, what the fucks the point of living?!
I’m my worst enemy at times, and still my best friend. I’m the curse in the dimmer light, and the sun at the end…
..of the road long ventured and cursed in admiration. To my bones, I’m disaster and your love is my vacation.
So I face you with a smile, but a heart that’s built from turmoil. The pain I can bare, but your tears are my fear.
Do I walk and stop hurting you? Or fight to keep you close? Am I positive because what we’ve become is now my host?
So it seats me to my table to be fed my own heart. I eat until content and gone far beyond my mark.
If I do this to myself, with total disregard how do I, realistically, expect to keep you safe from harm?
Sometimes I feel… like the things I aspire to be are out of my reach and…
since the class tells me to “be real” I fail to see them.
But I still hear the words in my head when I go sleep and…
hit my pillow when I wake up from bad dreaming.
Guess I’m weak as they want me to be. Weapon concealing…
see the fire within my eyes but can they feel it?
I want you to burn every time I touch this ceiling.
Now tell me it’s made from glass when I break this bitch in..
and it shatters down with gravity to your iris.
Can you see me now? I doubt it. Like I felt when me, you doubted.