If I gave you pretty enough words.
could you paint a picture of us that works.
an emphasis on function rather than design.

aren't you tired cause I will carry you, on a broken back
and blown out knees, I have been where you are for a while..
Aren't you tired of being weak?

Such rage that you could scream. the stars right out of the sky

And destroy the prettiest starry night. every evening that I

die. alone
I am exhumed just a little less human, so much more bitter and
cold.

after all these images of pain, have cut right thru you,
I will kiss every scar, and weep you are not alone...
then I'll show you that place in my chest where my heart still

tries to beat.
aren't you tired of being weak?
Such rage that you could scream. the stars right out of the sky


and destroy the prettiest starry night. every evening that I die


live love burn and die