These lips are simply lips,
they smile just for you...

It's a quiet night with crickets,
one of those nights where it's ok...

It's ok, I was just dreaming
of a someday off in neverland...

Static from the radio,
it's all just lights and sounds...

What lies beneath the cherry tree?
Oh, darling, don't you know...

We blamed it on the weather,
our little grey-cloud shreds of self-pity...

This poem's just a little piece of everything,
painted to look sort of like the morning sky...

I am sitting here
waiting for you...

It's getting dark in this little prison,
the one that people keep calling my bedroom...

It all just seems so insignificant to say...
Post-screaming, that regrettable silence that...

I'm going to write you a happy poem,
haven't done that in quite some time...

Every sunshine swirl
nips giddily at your heels...