WaitingThe same five songs play on and on.Forever's taking very long,but still I wait, I often do,lest I come running back to you. ~I close my eyes to pass the timeand dream of lover's lips sublimebut when I wake, I often findthat you've been stuck within my mind.Lingering?! Begone! I plead!I cannot give the love you need!And if I could, I'd be destroyed,and so I'm waiting in the void.And in the pit, I love the dark.Uncertainty has left its mark,but still you hold a beacon light,I fight the urge with all my might,And wait for you to walk awayso we can be alone someday.Alone together that's, ok.Just promise not to come my way. ~"Forever is over," is what you'd say.You'd "love me forever," forever I'd pay.But proven, its been, that it's still in its primeso I'll wait for forever to lay down and die.
Sunday Night Sunday.Oh boy, mixed emotions with that dame. You see, Sunday and I have a bit of a ... complicated, relationship.Scratch that, we have a "monopoly" relationship. You know? Where you love it but you really just wanna stab it right through its innocent-seeming cardboard frame and light a corner on fire and watch gleefull
Watch You FallI see your pain but I'm too farto save you from just where you are.Though I may try, I'm never closeI'm not the one who cares the most.Or so you thought, it may be soand who am I to really know?The hearts of others, I can't seebut still you mean the world to me.So trust in me, I'll have you know,I'd follow anywhere you'd goand if you'd have me, I would staybut I'm still waiting on that day.So I'll be here if you'd allowand try to lift you up some how,but still you think you've lost it allwhile I sit back and watch you fall.
Ode to the First (And Last) Slices of BreadNoble grain, know no disdaina guardian, you are.But once again, here in the end,you've met your brother, far.For last in line and first to dine,are both of your intentions,but nimble hands, from kitchen's landsglide by with cruel discretion.Has no one since your grand conceptionseen through skeptics harsh deception?Pushing by with ill transgressionsleaves your kind with such depressions.Nay, though bread, I hear your criesand hush your pleas and wipe you eyes.For two remain, for you remain,and soon you shall replete.No more hands shall push right pastas I consume these slices, last.For none remain, for you sustainas I sit down to eat.