Foggy in my MindDawnThe night begins to flutter away on the wings of ravensInky blackThick and impenetrableTo bring in the new mornPale and newFrail and grayThe fog lifts over the bleak and dusty moorsThe uncover the dawnThat first lightThe first flight of nightThe first fight of the light'Gainst the night's blightDawn rushes inPink and bright; a myriad of colorDawn; After midnight
DawnDawnAs the haze dies downFrom the lights in the townWe see down the streetTwo people to meetThe lights are all dimAnd the night so grimAnd the people who meetCreep down the streetThey meet by the doorOr apartment one-oh-fourAs they slip insideThe moon begins to hideAnd the night disappearsThe moon winks through the yearsThose two people on the streetUntil dawn, do they meet
After MidnightAfter MidnightThe city sleepsThe people creepThe men peepThe women sleepThe town yawnsThe morning dawnsThe thief palmsAfter midnightThe old man diesThe young man liesA woman criesAnother bats her eyesAnd the lights are a hazeFor the young men in a dazeAfter all their laysAfter midnightThe city is grimeAnd we hear the clock chimeAfter midnightAnd so dawns a new dayAnd we hear the jazz playAfter midnightAnd tonightIs just another midnight
Eternal YouthAt the WindowShe stands at the windowThe wind follows her gazeOver the oceanInto the hazeShe sleeps at the windowWaiting for yearsFor the knight to come backAnd kiss away her tearsShe weeps at the windowHer hair dank and uncurledNow falls loosely beside herNot a care in the worldShe sighs at the windowHer youth wastes awayAnd prays he'll come backTo her, one day...
Aisling1904 I was in love with her since the first day I saw her. She was all full of long, chicken legs, auburn curls and a laugh that sounded like the ringing peal of church bells. She was the embodiment of perfection to me and wouldn't give me the time of day. I guess that's why I loved her so much. Every morning, if I looked out of my window at 7 o'clock sharp, I would be able to see the little blue bike kicking up the cloud of dirt as she pedaled furiously towards the market. She would stop by the bakery and plead silently with those large blue eyes of hers, two bottomless oceans reflecting the sky above, never getting any darker. The baker, Mr. Johnson, would laugh, his potbelly jiggling with each peal, and ruffle her hair. Though she would pretend to be irritated, annoyed beyond belief, he knew she enjoyed the attention. It was in her nature. He would then turn around and pull a warm tray of muffins out of the oven, carrot, just for
3 Steps to HeartbreakLove's Watery GraveThe final destination is heartbreakEven the strongest of usCannot escape the burning, exquisite pain ofFirst loveFirst lossFirst dateFirst hateIf love were a choiceWho would choose it?Who could bear the determined isolation, desolation that follows us, ready to pounce?Or the shadows of hurt that watch us, preparing to strike?The first voyage down the canal of heartacheOne you'll never forgetHe's finally noticed youThere's a funny feeling at the back of your mindSomething isn't rightBut shake it awayYou're getting what you've always wantedCarry on down the riverThrough the tunnel of loveHe smiles so sweetly at youTells you he loves youHe'll prove his worthiness to youAnd you're so blinded that you can't even see anymoreContinue with your journeyThe final destination is nearingHe's still looking at youBut not that sweetly anymoreHis heart has turned to stoneThe demons have found your weaknessThe silence stretches on and onI