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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It rests on four legs, much the same it did back...
though its edges a little rounder, it’s top...

We do not walk these streets to be judged.
for we love, the same as others...

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

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

It doesn't matter how great she says you are,
nor how beautiful...