Once autumn's glow. Has gone away. And gray cotton clouds. Blanket drowsy days. You're the winter sun. Once fallen leaves. Have lost their crunch. And turn to confetti.
On the radio I knew they won't be talking about these lies. That were stealing ...made this wall and he shall pray. When I have misjudged and blew him away.
Smile Like That. Smile.... Scatting. It's been awhile since I've seen that smile. I can't help but wonder. . And it's nothing but natural to wonder. If you've ever loved her.
If I had a penny. For every time I caught you. Undressing me with your eyes. I'd be a rich one and then. I could prove all my senses. Were real all along.
Love me or leave me. But please. Don't deceive me. And say you. Love me how I am. You love the way. I fit some ideal. Not the real woman. You've yet to understand.
Wait a little while. We can't rush what belongs. To the heavens above. Like the course of our love without time. We'll never see what's behind. This elusive romance.
Little fly. The summer's play. My thoughtless hand. Has brushed away. . Am not I. A fly like thee. Or art not thou. A man like me. Little fly. . Related.
You just walked in to the quiet quiet after the stars, yes. It's such... silent, and you sense that something's wrong. Hmmm something's surely wrong!.
The way. You look at me. When you think. I'm not looking. Tells me your heart's. A sleeping giant. Worn out. By someone. You loved before me. I see you're scared.
I can hold my tongue for years I don't mind. for the night time silent I reside thousands of palms about you. until one of them comes true. I can hold my breath for years I won't get blue.
people i almost gave up holding on. watching us give into our fears. i almost believe. almost believe. all the world is helpless sorrow. no hope for a bright tomorrow.
Don't worry if we fall in love. We will never touch the ground. Don't worry if we fall in love. We will never touch the ground. Just fall into a dream.
In the city of, roses. Streets lined with red brick, and green branches. Wouldn't run at days that might seem weak. Or ...the pain that makes the land ...and the folks unique.
Mother of the Spring*. Her branches cradle slipping,. Buds, yawning open,. Welcome by an aging man.. He greets them fondly. With memories of when. Her bows were arms that held him as a younger man..