Paranoia in my head;
Brain dead...

Piano strings and guitar keys,
I hear them all when they sing...

She's a pink hand-grenade that offers its hand in...
An imprint in my mind aiding in my disruption...

The death of society: Mainstream Music.
Why be in the limelight, just to abuse it...

One of the last things she said to me
Was that I need to enjoy the little things...

I had never seen clouds so high in my feeble life.
A life made feeble by the shadow cast by this...

That breaking point after you inhale and right...
The time between the first rain drop hitting you...

Even prevalent in the darkest confines of me,
I find what I would like to call Present Hope...

How to explain Present Hope is still something
Not yet comprehensible to me...

It took a lot of angry nights
And awful fights to get where we are...

Rain clouds are only alright
When I'm not depressed...

Pitter patters on the roof like chitter chatters
That say statements regarding how nothing matters...