i'm in love

the fear sets in, of knowing how short our time is
the shortness of a stride
not a single excuse to prove that we were meant for this

everything starts to spin all at once

and if you hear something strange in my voice
oh its conviction, detest my words
they have no well meaning

run your fingers back and forth over this sheet of paper
run your fingers back and forth over this

so where's the heart?
its not coming through
who is this for?
so where's the heart?

and if you hear something strange in my voice, oh its conviction
detest my words, they have no well meaning
were caught between the storms that never mattered

oh dear puppet wake up and cut the strings before the last show
i believe that this is in your blood, by all means
take your place, take your place
put yourself into this letter
we've all had it alright
we dropped the ball.

maman est morte, ou peut-être hier, je ne sais pas.

You know that feeling, when you're up high looking across somewhere vast, and you say to yourself, 'I want to be out there, out at the farthest point' it's like a longing for something more magnificent. but it's not just that you want to be somewhere else, and not even only in one part of the picture, you want to be in all of it, you want to wrap yourself around it, because lets face it if you were placed across the view you'd simply turn around and say 'well now I just want to be over there'. I guess I'm waiting for the day when I can stand on top of a hill with a myriad of sights stretched out in front, and think to myself, I couldn't care less about longing, I wouldn't want to be anywhere else but here. that'd be dead nice.

i can't wait to be able to write something nice again, something pleasant to read.

i don't even

it seems like all i ever do is silently miss you. there really is nothing that can be said to dampen this, nothing could ever do you justice. i wish there were a way to think of you without that empty sinking feeling, i love to hear things about you, about when you were young and to hear how much i remind people of you, but anything heard or thought about is endlessly coupled with this prominent gut ache, it's all bitter sweet. i really wish you were here tonight, it's only recently hit me, but i don't really know what to do without you, everything is a little more pointless, all shaded slightly pastel, it's dull. i wonder what you would say if you could speak, it really would be nice to know what your voice sounds like. God I miss you.

why were you so scared?

my eyes are stinging, they don't focus
and everything in front is covered in film
it's all shrouded by clouds but i still see it
there are two moons out tonight
one half one full, so covered, so barely lit

it's nice to meet you

i don't hate you anymore, and i'll tell everyone
i can't hate you anymore, hate is far too strong a word
and i promise i'll begin to let you back in
i'll talk to you now, you can get to know me again
i know you cant read this, it's okay it's here for me


and to you. yes you. just go away.
at least try your hand at subtlety.
if you don't like it, stop reading it. you prick.

for once

won't you, won't you fill me up with it
why don't you fill me up with it, won't you fill me
won't you, won't you fill me up with it
why don't you fill me up with it
why don't you fill me, won't you
won't you fill me up with it, why don't you fill me up with it
why don't you fill me up