around the same time that life went through
finding out where the future leads kind of changes
torn between the need for security and
emptyness that lives in you when you let passion die
roaming the vacant halls of my heart shows much
tempest of romance i always wished for
hiding in a bottle that betrays its weariness more each day
emitting a mood unique to itself
having kept good care of such a valued object
you never feel sorry for somebody you stepped on
perhaps up on a shelf is a slightly safer choice than this
one day at a time is the best appoach to this situation
can you put yourself in the shoes of who lives there?
recieve the words of affection like a gift in the mailbox
as it happens i have not recieved that in a long time
collecting all my time
you never feel sorry for somebody this lucky
