I know that it is freezing but I think we have to walk
I keep waving at the taxis; they keep turning their lights off
But Julie knows a party at some actor’s west side loft
Supplies are endless in the evening; by the morning they’ll be gone.
When everything is lonely I can be my own best friend
I get a coffee and the paper; have my own conversations
With the sidewalk and the pigeons and my window reflection
The mask I polish in the evening, by the morning looks like shit.
And I know you have a heavy heart; I can feel it when we kiss
So many men stronger than me have thrown their backs out trying to lift it
But me I’m not a gamble you can count on me to split
The love I sell you in the evening, by the morning won’t exist.
You’re looking skinny like a model with your eyes all painted black
You just keep going to the bathroom always say you’ll be right back
Well it takes one to know one, kid, I think you’ve got it bad
But what’s so easy in the evening, by the morning is such a drag.
I’ve got a flask inside my pocket we can share it on the train
If you promise to stay conscious I will try and do the same
We might die from medication, but we sure killed all the pain
But what was normal in the evening, by the morning seems insane.
And I’m not sure what the trouble was that started all of this
The reasons all have run away but the feeling never did
It’s not something I would recommend, but it is one way to live
Cause what is simple in the moonlight, by the morning never is
What’s so simple in the moonlight, now is so complicated
What’s so simple in the moonlight, so simple in the moonlight
top 10 favourite lyrics ever
a hundred fireflies
lit up the skies
a thousand different hues
of a thousand midnight blues
a million running cars
parked under a million little stars
a billion different souls
each with different goals
numbers are but a number
a plain blank door
down the deep recesses of an unexplored corridor
he stepped in the cramped, dark room
the door slowly clicked behind him
a single bulb flickered faintly
he exhaled
it blinked out of existence
two hour nights
with no end in sight
how long can this last
how long until i reach my past
how much longer can i wait
how much more must i take
how much further can i go
how much worser can this get
how long can this last
how long must i stay steadfast
with barely an end in sight
of these two hour nights
40.
the prettiest flower, the best smelling girl
she captivates the hour, the loveliest pearl
countless nights, before and after
filled with sounds of deepest laughter
until one night, eyes pooled with bright light
it wasn’t quite right, and she took flight
i told myself i wouldn’t let her hurt me ever again
but seasons passed and feelings came back, stronger than they had been
hurting, jealous, bitter and bruised, felt like i’ve been used
i’m annoyed, exasperated, furious and impassioned, but mostly so confused
with all the pain that she has dealt
if you asked me how i felt
you’d think i’d say without a doubt, surely all of the above
but tell me really how often do best friends fall in love
47.
body hugging jeans,
worn by young teens
old fashion knit sweaters,
and hats with big feathers
Why are these things so important?
driving fast cars,
by young men in bars
big apartment lofts,
and facebook on microsofts,
Why are these things so important?
ever-changing phones,
girls in skin and bones
parties with drinks,
just so guys can throw winks
Why are these things so important?
children that hunger
whom won’t be here much longer,
and those that are sick,
wishing daily to old saint nick,
Why aren’t these things so important?
46. hidden tracks
she keeps her sketches under the bed, and stores old books inside her head
paints pictures of sunshine green, and oceans filled with deepest red
buys old journals, with sun faded covers and timeworn ink
she curls up on a cozy couch, absent from the charmless crowds
her summer salary’s low but her spring spirits are high
and sometimes she speculates on the strangest scenes
like how if train stations were alive, they’d be such peculiar creatures
traversing through the thundering thoughts of a thousand travelers at a time
experiencing polar emotions of home coming welcomes and sending off goodbyes
watching the transformation of the popular princess to a lonely girl
sometimes she skips class for days at a time
a temporary escape from chaotic calculus, or strenuous Spanish
instead goes to the movie theater alone, at nine in the afternoon
she declines invitations, prefers to wander the streets on her bike
with an old paperback in one hand, a notebook in the other
dreaming of Whitman and Bukowski, of Steinbeck and Plath, Yeats and Salinger, o. Henry and Hemingway
she clears the tumbleweed from her mind
and removes the grays from her palette
she opens her heart,
her deep red hair flows free
she hangs her sketches on the walls
and scribbles away her thoughts in anything she can find
45.
tv dinners sit cold on their plates
the fish swim as if dragged down by weights
dust collects on old fashioned rugs
coffee sits in cold ceramic mugs
a calm settles upon the house
the only sign of life is the scurrying of a mouse
and the bed lay empty for months at a time
until he eventually sold it for barely a dime
43.
Standing in the ocean’s breeze,
Will you remember me,
There’s only one way,
But its something she can’t say,
Words that they both knew,
Something he couldn’t do
water touches his feet
something that could never unmeet
its cold seeping through his clothes
from his hair down to his toes
he dove into the deep
quickly fell asleep
little fish dart by
and seaweed floats on
and plastic rings entangle themselves
he sees nothing
he hears nothing
he feels nothing
save for the cold, freezing him to a silent sleep
