It pains me when I speak,
of those nights spent alone...

One thousand and one open doors,
Fifteen pages of a single verse...

I'm drunk on love and falling hard.
The taste of coffee, your strawberry hair...

Like the scars that line her arms,
amid a dark and blackened heart...

I panic.
Not just worry, but full on panic...

You grip my finger in your tiny hand
and you look at me as if I have all the answers...

So many things to say,
thousands of thoughts entangled within...

Lead me with your cliche's,
And let a whisper skim your lips...

You think you can silence us, tape our mouths with...
You're wrong if you think we'll be held down and...

Her porcelain dress caught in the wind,
pulling away from all that consumes the mangled...

Thought I had it all figured out...
Dripping water hits my skin...

White feathers, whisky and the sound of heaven,
Bluebirds, silk and cheap perfume...