When I was down, you were up. never feeling the pain at all. When you were down, you kept shut. all the doors that made you small. . Held your hand. thinking I was quite the man.
The hour of souls is the night by your side. the whisper of angels, your breath. I sleep behind the moon. with your slender hand in mine. . The ceiling is gone.
Turn your head and face the hole. from where the white illutions shine. Cast a glance upon the mole. which taints the skin so pure, so fine. The garden hangs inside a room.
It's under shirt sleeves. Bare shoulders and now. Tattoos of the things we love the most. And it's retold with amazing success. And it seems so brave but it's just a sucker punch.
Thanks for calling Mister Michael. But he's not feeling well. His back is aching, heart is breaking. You've reached a private hell. I choose to be alone, embracing my defeat.
There must be something about me. That makes you stare. There must be something inside me. That makes you scared. There must be something you see. That I can't see, and it's all over me.
You must understand some mountains. Are made to clim, not just to admire. You must be able to look inside. And perhaps cry. . Someday you'll find your will.
You can get sad. Looking for an inspiration. But guess what. Nothing will come to your mind. It's demotivation. 'Cause when you're. In the center of attention.
(Jacques Veneruso). A veces el hombre es como el sol, tiene. Dos puntos de apoyo. El primero donde nace, se leva y se. Engrandece. El secundo donde desciende, se posa y se.
(Lionel Florence/Pascal Obispo). Savoir sourire. A une inconnue qui passe. N'en garder aucune trace. Sinon celle du plaisir. Savoir aimer. Sans rien attendre en retour.
'Shoulder to Cry On'. Life is full of lots of up and downs,. And the distance feels further when you're headed for the ground,. And there is nothing more painful than to let you're feelings take.
Just another day. Love seems so far away. There's no sign of life. In Eden's garden. Just another day. Liberty's coming out to play. On a Belfast street.
Swimming, swimming,. swimming in those arms. whose embrace I knew before. only in my dreams. is a wonder, wonder,. wonder of such beauty. that I'm overwhelmed..
The fantasy is about power, it is really about control. A powerless loveless outsider, wanting to be in control. To dominate and destroy beauty, put himself in the master's role.
Oh I can feel it now. The spinning sign just hangin' high. Walking out along the edge. I saw it move just passing by. Lights spill out my mouth,. It's on my hands, it's in the sky.
I'm walking along the darkest road. Staring at the sky up above me. I keep on hearing these voices in my head. They wont leave me alone. . I use to be the saviour.
Your so cold,. Your broken inside,. Your lying on the floor,. And your screaming,. Hoping that someone can,. Believe in you,. I turn around and i see it,.
Now my life becomes the night. I have no need to fight. when I close my eyes so tight. that I can see the light. . the time has come for me. there's nothing left to see.
It's getting late. I'm lying on my bed. wondering how my life has come to this. cool winter breeze. cool enough to freeze. seals my troubled mind with cold and tender kiss.
It's hard to read between the lines when they've been fucking deleted. For the lying is a seed and youre sowing fields. Denial is so beautiful when the flowers wither and die peacefully. Sweet surrender..