something suttle nocking on the door
something deep writen in your eyes
the clouds are clearer when in the skys
to close and the focus is lost
lost like the souls of the fortunate few
they do what they do
and have no feelings to answer to
if you ask me there lucky
closed eyes swiming in deep
id rather not hear the steal plumit to my heart as i glide welcomeing to my
feet
die instantlly still not knowing my part in this never ending natural art
art of thievery
never owned my own heart
back and forth from suiter to suiter
i dont know the pulse of my own heart beat
like a dog thats newttered i too am constantlly incomplete
but i wish id want to be so blind
not to care what is mine
the fortunate few
shallow and safe
i comend you
seeing is believing
and believing is what i do
never knowing what colors show tru
i paint steady unplaned and
i detatch the brain from the hand
i wish i could be ok with being safe
i wish i didnt cross the lines
i wish i didnt want to know the things i've left behind...
the few fortunate who walk on clouds and enjoy lifes lies
lifes made for people like you....not writers and creators who want more
passion in life then just these simple lines we write....

 
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