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Save your scissors 9:57 p.m. 2005-02-24 Just one more perfect progression of chords leading up to a sonorous verse that is decrying all the pain and suffering you caused. And I will never write you something perfect and famous and utterly beautiful but every night I'll give it my all and isn't that something to be happy about. The depths of our depression helps to measure the strenght of our joy and sometimes we don't need a purpose or a tomorrow because sometimes the night sky is beautiful and his voice is transcending all of our petty wars. And when every word is laced with fear of doubt I will say that when you smile it will be somehow beyond perfect and I am just a boy with a beautiful mind anod nothing else to offer but my heart and something that is somehow rooted in love. I never claimed to love you and I never claimed a thing of you but I want to ask you now for one last favor. Just give me honesty, just give me all of the words you've been hiding or ignoring or pouring into paper diaries hidden under your bed. Save your promises for him and save your scissors for softer skin because we both know that things between us are fragile and silken but we both know that we don't need this. I'm not asking for what's best for me or what will make me smile, all i'm asking- and i swear to god i know that its a lot to ask for- all i'm asking for is the truth to put me under a spell and give me one last thing to remember you by. And I'm not worried about what that truth may be because underneath your cashmere sweaters you are a human being and underneath your perfect smile and past the endless captivation of your mesmerizing eyes there is nothing to fear. And will you tell me that its all in my head or will you tell me that this is real? I know that its going to be ok because whether or not i'm happy and regardless of the weather and the way things turn out his voice will be flawless and my thoughts will be gorgeous and my image of you will last forever as something that recalls flowers and sunny summer days, no matter what the pictures show. WHen you close your eyes the words that bleed from fingertips are somehow more than letters and phrase and with my eyes squeezed shut i can see the way we used to be and the way I'll be someday. I swear to god there is hope, and its contagious, its contagious as hell and why don't you rub up close before you leave, take some of it with you. I don't want you to miss out on a moment of this. I want to give this all to you back & forth |