beanpoophead
Bluelighter
I guess I can’t help but cry
overwhelmed with just being
happy
like it was to much to ask before
not enough grief to set me free
and when I push it all away
only the sun shines bright in my day
keeps me confronted
until the next time I see
you
and I don’t want anything but
you making love to me
that’s why I count the days down
until the next time I can lay there
and know it isn’t right quite yet
that through the tough times we might face
you’ll still be there holding my hand
and kissing me
hello
cos I think you’ll always know
what makes me tick
maybe its just because I let you in
and told you all the things I borrow
within my wounded
soul
today I looked a picture of a baby
and just because I knew the story
I wondered how
something so beautiful
could come from something so tragic
and it let me look at other people
wonder what their story is
because your’s inspires
me
poetic tragedies written on my lips
that tell the stories of lives past
and all the things that we dream to come
because im dreaming dreams that are to big
to fit on anything but pages and pages
but tragedies they are often are not
all of the things i've written have become
triumphs of making it through one more day
and hope that springs like spring lilies has come
letting my unhappiness
unfold
and I give to you what I’ve given away
the happiness I seek and that I have found
all to you, so that maybe someday
you can love me in that way
overwhelmed with just being
happy
like it was to much to ask before
not enough grief to set me free
and when I push it all away
only the sun shines bright in my day
keeps me confronted
until the next time I see
you
and I don’t want anything but
you making love to me
that’s why I count the days down
until the next time I can lay there
and know it isn’t right quite yet
that through the tough times we might face
you’ll still be there holding my hand
and kissing me
hello
cos I think you’ll always know
what makes me tick
maybe its just because I let you in
and told you all the things I borrow
within my wounded
soul
today I looked a picture of a baby
and just because I knew the story
I wondered how
something so beautiful
could come from something so tragic
and it let me look at other people
wonder what their story is
because your’s inspires
me
poetic tragedies written on my lips
that tell the stories of lives past
and all the things that we dream to come
because im dreaming dreams that are to big
to fit on anything but pages and pages
but tragedies they are often are not
all of the things i've written have become
triumphs of making it through one more day
and hope that springs like spring lilies has come
letting my unhappiness
unfold
and I give to you what I’ve given away
the happiness I seek and that I have found
all to you, so that maybe someday
you can love me in that way
