A photgraph will recapture a time
just like a poem will tell you a rhyme
but behind a smile there is another story
just like in a poem there is an unseen glory
isnt it odd that these things are so alike
you can see the beauty but cant feel the thorny spike
for it is hidden behind the beauty
but when its to late it does its duty
by drawing your oblivious blood
is this the price to pay for searching for beauty in the mud
isnt it strange how these stories remind me of me and you
i was blinded because i believed our friendship was meaningful and true
but then you snuck up behind my back
made rumors up about me and jack
revealed my secrets to the world
and for you the path to popularity was unfurled
whilst everyone believed i was a pitiful freak
your life reached its almighty peak
i used to cry in bed every night
and in my room of darkness i would become afraid of a single source of light
so thank you for killing life
and stabbing me in the back with a knife
for i have learnt there is no beauty in the mud
only thorns that draw your oblivious blood
