From that job that makes you sleepback to the thoughts that keep you awake…

No lies, just love.

I believe that lovers should be draped in flowers/ And laid entwined together in a bed of clover/ Left there to sleep/ Left there to dream of happiness.

I’ve cried, and you’d think I’d be better for it, but the sadness just sleeps, and it stays in my spine the rest of my life.

I came upon a doctor who appeared in quite poor health. I said, ‘There’s nothing that I can do for you that you can’t do for yourself.’ He said, ‘Oh yes you can. Just hold...

It’s kind of a practical thing to do it this way,

I really just want to be warm yellow light that pours over everyone I love.

They say it’s better to bury your sadness in a graveyard or garden that waits for the spring to wake from its sleep and burst into green.

But these are days we dream about, when the sunlight paints us goldAnd this apartment could not be prettier as we danced up there alone

Im happy just because I found out I am really no one.

So we decided we’d basically go on tour twice and play the same places.

I like to feel the burn of the audience’s eyes when I’m whispering all my darkest secrets into the microphone

They say they don’t know when but a day is gonna come. When there won’t be a moon and there won’t be a sun. It will just go black. It will just go back to...

Screaming is bad for the voice, but it’s good for the heart.

We must memorize nine numbers and deny we have a soul.

Last few months I’ve been living with this couple,yeah, you know the kind who buy everything in doubles,I love their love and I am thankful,that someone has actually recieved the prize that was promised,by all...

I know a girl who cries when she practices violin because each note sounds so pure it just cuts into her, and then the melody comes pouring out her eyes. Now, to me, everything else...

It’s not what you know, but what you’re thinking half the time

And it all boils down to one quotable phrase… “If you love something, give it away.”

Well, winter’s gonna endI’m gonna clean these veins againSo close to dying that I finally can start living

When everything is lonely I can be my best friend.

I want a lover I don’t have to love

You write such pretty words, But life’s no storybook. Love’s an excuse to get hurt. And to hurt. Do you like to hurt? I do, I do. Then hurt me, Then hurt me, Then hurt...

We might die from medication but we sure killed all the pain

And we will share a drink. Yeah we will share our fears and they will know how I love them.They will know how I love. They will know how I love them.I am nothing without...

We have a problem with no solution but to love and to be loved.

There’s all body types, but there’s just one size.

Now I believe that lovers should be draped in flowers and laid entwined together on a bed of clover and left there to sleep, left there to dream of their happiness.

Cause I swear that I’m dying, slowly but its happining.

Love’s an excuse to get hurt.

We’re all too busy working, entertaining ourselvesforty hours television and prescription pillswell I take two a day to make my brain behaveIt never does but who’s to say at least my doctor gets paid.

All eyes on the calendar, another year I claim of total indifference.

I’ll start drinking like the way I drank before. And I just won’t have a future anymore.

Well, winter’s gonna end I’m gonna clean these veins again So close to dying that I finally can start living

How grateful I was then to be part of the mystery, to love and be loved. Let’s just hope that is enough.

I drink to stay warm, and to kill selected memories…

Let the poets cry themselves to sleep, and all their tearful words will turn back into steam.

I want a lover I don’t have to love”

Why are you scared to dream of god when it’s salvation that you want?

So when your (new) eyes meet mine they won’t see no lies, just love…

I keep drinking the ink from my pen, and I’m balancing history books up on my head, but it all boils down to one quotable frase; if you love something, give it away!

From that job that makes you sleep back to the thoughts that keep you awake…

If the world could remain within a frame like a painting on the wall, I think we’d see the beauty then and stand staring in awe.

I scream, but I still don’t know why I do it. The sound never stays; it just swells and decays. So what is the point?