No One Listened

Arbitrary belief and nobody wins.
Momentary relief and the wheel spins.
Based on the promise of coming salvation.
It feels more like absolute retaliation.

They ask what's wrong and I shrug.
But they see past the holes we've dug.
I cry again and it pains me so.
But miserable men can't say no.

He thinks time will fix the wounds.
She sleeps comfortably in cold rooms.
I wish that you could stop me from crying all night.
You wish I'd stop struggling and go towards the light.

I can shout but no one will listen.
Try as I may there's no calm position.
I wish this hurt, pain, and agony didn't stay.
I wish it was easy for me not to feel this way.

Knowing is the First Step

Slipping into memoirs of long ago.
Wishing love told me where she'd go.
Picking up the phone for a quick dial.
But knowing things is going out of style.

An eye for an eye in the boughs of life.
We aim for something less than strife.
My heart races and my senses tense.
Invoking the power that love prevents.

Don't leave me here wondering why.
Because I'm so worried, I could die.
Explanation can only go very far.
As I sit here wishing upon a star.

And I can't keep feeling this way.
For its eventual end I can only pray.
Why do you do this, I'll never know.
But this is the feeling love will bestow.

Day and Night

I miss her smile every night.
I miss her lips pressed on mine.
I miss her arms around me tight.
I miss her eyes' tender shine.

I want her to like me so much more.
I want her to see me for the hero I was.
I want her to leave my faults at the door.
I want her to know I am the one she loves.

I wish I could perfect my art.
I wish I made the world a better place.
I wish I knew where to start.
I wish I could win this endless race.

I am tired of being sad at night.
I am exhausted from the trials by day.
I am determined to make things right.
I am set to turn this darkness away

What's Real and True

Feet planted in tattered debris.
We aim to end her misery.
Biting bullets for what was good.
She thought she was misunderstood.

She painted a worse off painting.
But it only sped her tainting.
We stood with her until the day it reckons.
As she sank low to drink the remaining seconds.

And her painting was never the same.
We knew her story and her game.
She has the power to be happy once more.
All she really had to do was walk out the door.

But she took a chance to set things straight.
Cracked the surface at the strike of eight.
She despised all the ashes she had to breathe.
As we set her on the blessed path of reprieve.

Yet don't we all walk on wounds?
Can you remember those afternoons?
We just hold on to what remains of what we think is lost.
Even if those just happen to have unconventional cost.

In the records we unbind.
We were out of our mind.
Against odds and never questioning why or how.
We stand close and we sing together now.