Evaporates with the morning dew,
but the scent stays with my pillow...

One must often choose
Between two things that are loved...

I walk through the hallways
With my confidence on my sleeves...

Who knows when it'll come again,
fall through the sky again...

As deep as the ocean's vibrant hue
and as cold as the sea is too...

I had hoped we'd be strung along,
as if life were a blustery day...

There is a new, hard callus on my hand,
Like there is a new aching in my heart...

Practice makes perfect
And perfect makes dumb...

Well our current situation,
with you waiting night and day...

My California is
the land of the mountains...

As I write this I wonder
if you can recall...

I've always seen the spirit of chivalry
as the silent, aborted child...