Another Flashing Chance At Bliss

I Am Troubled, Immeasurably By Your Eyes. I Am Struck By The Feather Of Your Soft Reply. The Sound Of Glass Speaks Quick, Disdain And Conceals What Your Eyes Fight To Explain.

Where's Your Will To Be Weird?

You Cannot Petition The Lord With Prayer!

The Time To Hesitate Is Through No Time To Wallowin The Mire Try Now We Can Only Lose And Our Love Become A Funeral Pyre

I See Myself As A Huge Fiery Comet, A Shooting Star. Everyone Stops, Points Up And Gasps "oh Look At That!" Then - Whoosh, And I'm Gone... And They'll Never See Anything Like It Ever Again... And They Won't Be Able To Forget Me - Ever.