Sheets of written words, drift through the wind. Seeking to be found, and finally bound.

If the cloud bursts, thunder in your ear, you shout and no one seems to hear. And if the band you're in starts playing different tunes, I'll see you on the dark side of the moon.

I'm sorry. I can't be perfect.

I'm a broken soul,
I'm an open book.
With many torn out pages.

Close my eyes for a while, and force from the world a patient smile.

Everyone has a secret, everyone has a story to tell. Don't judge someone, because they just might be going through hell.

Right now it doesn't matter,
alive or dead-
I have my suicide letters written,
they're hiding under my bed.

Do not stand at my grave and cry;
I am not there. I did not die.

Just one step is all it takes..
to take his hand, to see his face

I'm too high now, I'd die from the fall.