Take that pen at your finger tips
and write something from the heart...

The hum of the drum of the washing machine,
Bubbles and bounce, making everything clean...

My pieced heart bleeds
for you, is what it needs...

I am the boy in the bubble
trapped within my own...

Clammy skin and dusty bones
eyes of coal and heart of stones...

Daddy i don't hate
but daddy i hate you...

Her heart got so misplaced
those around her got replaced...

Just names on a list
another statistic...

I am not an artist
I'm not a wizard with my words...

Was the first time not enough
though i was hurt deep inside...

The stress had been mounting for weeks
And it had all got on top...

I searched for a man of genius
of that, that exceeded my own...