LyricsInLostLand

I ain't got much for nobody, I ain't got much of anything. But I've got you, and that means a lot Cos you're my everything.

I don't often cry, Because when you ask, Is when I finally do. I do it for you. To show you that you scared me. To show you that I care. To show you when you went away, I was scared that you weren't there.

All my friends are going places Whilst I'm just filling empty spaces With a lack of talent and dark humour Consoled with 'You're just a late bloomer'

Sing me a song, my sweet love, Lullaby my broken blues away. Let me stroke your cool, ivory skin, And dance my fingers across you, if I may? Sound me a soulful, tender melody, As I wishfully long for you in dismay. I lust to entwine my own tune with yours, If only I could play.

A breeze in the trees, A wind in the woods, A holler in the hollow, Where the house once stood. A brick in the bracken, Flames of red on the green, Wreckage in the shadow, Where the house had been. Ceased laughter from the river, Silence, a horrendous cost, Of the carnage of the building, Where the life was lost. Was it a flame in a furnace? A fire in a barn? Arson in the attic? Whatever, it was done. They never found her body, Perhaps she made it out? No, the fire was inescapable, She died without a doubt. The infant in the corner, Who used to sing and play, They forgot to warn her, And so she died that day. A small pile of ashes, A

Why! The sun doth shine on such a pretty lady, Of wondrous hair and skin! But I wonder, if you knocked on Heavens Gate, Would they let you in? What secrets do those bosoms hold? What lies behind those eyes? Would we find the truth within, Which your form denies? Do those slender, gentle hands Hide a glamorous gun? Should we be enticed by those full lips, Or should we turn and run.

Dirty brown, let my earth-clod hands take yours, Grasp me tightly, like winding tendrils on a tree. Hold on, as I pull you from the dark muddy soil, Wind your scarred arms with mine, lean on me. Climb up and out, grab my firmly rooted feet. Scramble skywards, into my arms open wide. Shake yourself free of the violent dark  dirt. Don’t sit in your grave before you’ve died.

I’d hold your hand whilst they beat you up, I’d wipe your tears with my thumb. And before I departed, back to my future, I’d say "for Christ’s sake, tell someone".

I’m reaching out into the gap to you, To the mother I’ve never known. Love me as you swore you would, Don’t leave me on my own. Take me out from the blistering cold Of being in isolation. Hold me in your loving arms, Rescue me from damnation. You owe me my childhood. You owe me a living. I’m giving you this opportunity, I’m trying to be forgiving. I’m willing to forget the past, If you promise to be in my future. This time we’ll make it last, If only you would respond. I’m reaching out into the gap to you, Wishing for a reply, But I’m guessing if you had wanted me, You would’ve n

Dreams of you and dreams of I, Were sailing through this dreamers head, Adrift an ocean in the sky, Of oranges and subtle reds, Water-coloured cloudy thoughts, Blended to a pastel teal, And offered haven in their ports, To any dreams I wished were real. The beauty that this world displayed, Would feed my ever hungry eyes, Yet starved they stayed for all the days, That you were absent from my side, The Milky-Way above the palms, The sunrise in a foreign land, All did fall like shooting stars, For longing of us hand in hand. Your natural beauty ebbed and flowed, Like waves upon my dreamy shore, Receding tides that never slowed, Were chased un

I t ' s f u n n y h o w p e o p l e c a n s t a b y o u a n d q u e s t i o n w h y y o u b l e e d.

i do not fear death; i merely fear dying i may hate life but i love the feeling of living i am frightened of love however i could not bear a life without loving and that is my dilemma

Words are the expression of an author, Their soul and mind which pour forth Onto the page they write upon, yet They Hurt, open the wounds that were so Carefully sewn shut, only to be ripped Apart at the seams by a single syllable, Nothing More than any other syllable, but so Much more powerful, like the difference Between a drizzle and a hurricane. More Than the steel razor that brings a red calm, The red-and-white pills that numb fear, The tight rope that brings the dark peace, Because You don’t understand, because your ego Matters, but our lives don’t, because what You have done and what you will do you Can’t Imagine,

The silence stretches softly as you slumber here in my arms Perhaps you’re dreaming of me when I hear you sigh (and it’s the most beautiful sound I will know) I can’t tell if it’s sorrowful or if your dream-self is smiling but as my tears fall upon your head as I pray that my shaking body doesn’t jostle you awake (I’m trying to hold still, my dear) as I quietly gasp for breath and hold you just a little bit tighter (Forgive me) as I ponder upon the loneliness that we both will face (I’m sorry) I desperately wish for one more day (I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry) to spend with you and

How long will you be here she whispered one night, I stared out of the window to the distant moonlight. Thoughts overtaken by a question now posed, I held her so close, her eyes tightly closed. What is a lifetime, how long is a breath, will it ever be over even as I go to my death. Then one night she whispered how long will we be here together, I stared out the window and thoughtfully replied, approximately forever.

I will never be an architect Because I can’t see the numbers And they slip from my fingers Like a dream of flying In morning light I will starve to death on dreams