This night I shall dream of your bedazzling red...
Wrapped in echoes of your mellifluous neck-music...

A withered old man
stands on his grey front porch...

U think that life is better then death
but really it is different...

We liked each over for 2 years
but never told a soul...

I don't want to be like that girl...
who wrote a horrid letter...

Have you every had that feeling in your stomough...
have you ever had that feeling when you think that...