You’ve got it all wrong
love isn’t pain,
It isn’t
death, misery, sadness
It isn’t
a cigarette on a shady day
You call yourself a religious man
I call myself one too
Love is patient, love is kind
You’re a story
livin for drama
puttin’ yourself through
death, misery, sadness
you can’t help it,
you are blind
And that’s the sacrifice
of a writer, never fully content
Like Cain forced to wander
You took my kindness for weakness You took my advice and devoured it Not use or to keep, but to bring me closer You looked at my life, Because it was something you wanted You felt you knew it, knew me
It’s a strange thing to mourn those who are still alive File away the past into another archive In the flames we burned away, I tried to contrive A method to the madness, a way we could thrive They sa
With those angelic eyes, you look up and see me Isn’t perfection just a wicked scheme? With sweat that dries on your skin, still as sweet Empathy in my eyes, I see the brokenness underneath I’m here t