We blow around like tiny leaves in a big storm
Finding there's nothing left to breathe or to keep warm
You ebb and flow and your rhythm beats my head
Leave me alone while you swallow up your dead

You are the one
You cradle me and kill
Caressing my face

Leave me undone
You suffocate and have me
This is the place

“what matters most is how well you walk through the fire” 

― Charles Bukowski

I really wish she had a different way of viewing things
I think the city that we're from just kinda ruined things
It's such a small place: not much to do but talk and listen
The men are jealous and the women all in competition
And all your friends telling you stories that you often misinterpret
And taint all your images of your "Mr. Perfect"
I could tell that you been crying all night, drinking all summer
Praying for your happiness, hope that you recover
This is one I know you hated when you heard it
And it's worse because you know that I deserve it