if I truly believed that looks could kill, I would fill my house with mirrors and stare deep into my eyes for days on end, praying for 'this nothing' to become 'that special something' we all crave.

How can one man spend so much time fighting the PM, aching for AM? the dark seeps through my every pore. my eyes wired open, the ceiling fan buzzes in content, spinning out ZzZz's as it recycles my air.

There's a Rocket line... "kiss tomorrow goodbye"... add: "when you grow up your heart dies"

That's why I only say "I love you" when I'm sleeping in and since I never sleep... I've got no love for myself.

Maybe I think that the sixth string has a heart that breaks every time i play a chord, the chord that spits the word i spill back at me. when i die i'm cashing in every second that i've wasted, so i'll see you all again so.

oh please! somebody hurt me so i scream! so everyone can see that there is passion left in me, i'll wear my scars like a badge of honour and wear my lungs on the outside of my shirt... just so they know i'm breathing.

If i sing a song of clear blues, when yellow comes it just might sing me to sleep and i am sleeping with my clothes on because i haven't given up hope yet tonight