A hand held over a candle in angst fuelled bravado. A carbon trail scores a moist stretched palm. Trapped in the indecision of another fine menu. And you sit there and ask me to tell you the story so far.
Storm clouds cruising cross the blue skies. Shadows float across the fields of barley. I find myself an island in an island. I have to sort things out just my way.
Sheltering her ego on the edge of the floodlight's arc. She'll contemplate seduction, she'll calculate the catch. When she moved, her presence speared me.
Can you feel my skin. Can you feel my bones. Can you put my spine in plaster and take me home. . So unpleasant inside and out. So unpleasant inside and out.
Getting close to seasons end. I heard somebody say. That it might never snow again. In England. . Snow flakes in a new-born fist. Sledging on a hill. Are these things we'll never see.
Looking at a star you?ve never seen before. Try to forget it. So you can see it. Tasted like you?ve never tasted it before. Try to forget it. So you can remember it.
Did you cry when they dragged you home. Put a lock on the door and the telephone. Was a runaway girl all they could see. . Have the nights and the days that you've come through.
So here I am once more in the playground of the broken hearts. One more experience, one more entry in a diary, self-penned. Yet another emotional suicide overdosed on sentiment and pride.
Reality is something that you rise above. We don't see things as they are, we see them as we are. Avoiding danger is no safer in the long run. The fearful fall foul of fate as often as the reckless.
I can imagine nothing more tedious. Than trying to have fun with you again. Maybe it's just something in my mind. But I hate feeling like I'm trying all the time.
Such a pretty girl. The anger didn't hide it. You shaved your head, pulled a face. Dressed yourself up without grace. . It didn't hide a life times damage.
Punch. Punch and Judy. Punch and Judy. Punch and Judy. . Washing machine, pinstripe dream. Stripped the gloss from a beauty queen. Punch and Judy, Judy.
Lids that close and time that slows the rapid eye. There is no dreaming in the grave. You'll never look into those eyes again. In this world, In this world.
You carry me around. Like loose change jingle janglin'. At the bottom of your bag. You don't seem to feel it though. Because you swing down the street.
Huddled in the safety of a pseudo silk kimono. Wearing bracelets of smoke, naked of understanding. Nicotine smears, long, long dried tears, invisible tears.
Three hundred miles an hour on water. In your purpose-built machine. No one dared to call a boat. Screaming blue. Out of this world. Make history. This is your day.
Good morning!. . When you look into the mirror. Do you see a face you hardly recognise. If you look into the sun too long. Do the things you see begin to burn your eyes.
When we were young we used to say. Things would be different. One fine day. The walls would crumble. Nations sing as one. We live in hope. Cause so far it hasn't come.
He's seen too much of life. And there's no going back. The loneliness calls him. And the edge which must be sharpened. He's losing it. And he knows.. But there's a fighter in his mind and his body's tough.
She's older than me. I don't care about them talkin'. Why can't they see. I've got all that i need?. . All the pretty young things. Seem suddenly boring.