Water that is unable to quench my thirst,alters in flames
and relentless ties, all one in the same for this hour.
We can't write to save a tithing trial.
When I look back at the time of being one in the same with your affliction I cry.
Maybe if i made a reserve of all that remained I could alter the destined consonants.
If you are no longer the flames taking my flesh, forget it.
I won't be one with another.
Challenge the afflicted and thoughtless.
If there is a dreamer, where is the constructor...
With desires and unquenchable thirst, anger and fretting will be the endless fortune.
With nothing possible to catch the drowning bodies, cry for what you want more.
If Jesus is your nothing possible. Cry out Iliadless child.
Saturday, April 23, 2011
Sunday, April 10, 2011
Summer air and bitter shier.
I miss the days when my world was smaller.
I miss when the view of the river created a much more chaotic peace than it does now.
Jordan can create reverberations yet, echo-less times.
You are everywhere in between, places I have found, empty spaces and of course, blank faces.
When we were younger we would have called this "thinking deeper than the rest of the world" Now, we say we are just tired.
I'm home tonight.
Without you, I will be here with or without you.
When He gave us what the world couldn't offer us we cried out and the praises were crazier than what had ever been lifted up.
Times like these make me frightened of one more day.
The darkness the foreigners call ricketbacks are closing in on us faster than we can foresee.
We thought it would never be lost. And God only knows, the children are the ones living in the strong moments, where they belong. With mere cliche, hold on tight and get ready to fight.
With all the music we loved and the homework we forgot, moments attested, we lived for summer air and bitter shier.
Let me have these moments back, stop telling me to stop saying I'm alive.
Stop telling me I shouldn't use the word things.
Everything is a thing. Deal.
Peace of this deal, we aren't alone together.
We are still the same. We couldn't take a chance. Pack up all you have, simple times, simple people, simple smiles. Everything cannot own what you miss.
I miss when the view of the river created a much more chaotic peace than it does now.
Jordan can create reverberations yet, echo-less times.
You are everywhere in between, places I have found, empty spaces and of course, blank faces.
When we were younger we would have called this "thinking deeper than the rest of the world" Now, we say we are just tired.
I'm home tonight.
Without you, I will be here with or without you.
When He gave us what the world couldn't offer us we cried out and the praises were crazier than what had ever been lifted up.
Times like these make me frightened of one more day.
The darkness the foreigners call ricketbacks are closing in on us faster than we can foresee.
We thought it would never be lost. And God only knows, the children are the ones living in the strong moments, where they belong. With mere cliche, hold on tight and get ready to fight.
With all the music we loved and the homework we forgot, moments attested, we lived for summer air and bitter shier.
Let me have these moments back, stop telling me to stop saying I'm alive.
Stop telling me I shouldn't use the word things.
Everything is a thing. Deal.
Peace of this deal, we aren't alone together.
We are still the same. We couldn't take a chance. Pack up all you have, simple times, simple people, simple smiles. Everything cannot own what you miss.
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