Pictures on the Whitewashed Walls

As a child I wished to draw on walls
Even if it came out in scribbles
To me it would appear to be a whole other world
An escape

As a young teen I read a book
That a girl had painted her room
And stretched across the wall and ceiling
Was a magnificent tree

It was not that it would be nice to look at
Because it would
But even more then that
If I painted one, it would show that I was more than that

Because while I might be cute
I want to show I can accomplish something
And show others that beauty
Is something more then from the outside

Because while I imagined that tree
Or even nightfall on a cityscape
I want to fall back into the beauty that it brings
While it lets my soul sing

When I Settle Down I'm Painting on my Walls

Baby, It's the Atmosphere

I hear you calling me back
Your voice calling through the trees
I'm not far away yet
But this cold is starting to get to me

Baby come in, cuz its cold outside
you're leaving with your life and you're taking mine
Baby come back cuz I'm dying inside
I don't know how long I can make it on my...

My every breath is hanging in the air
Every word I utter stays frozen in this atmosphere
But my lungs freeze over from my coldness
And not the ideas that look like cigarette smoke

And I'm thinking this is the lamest joke
Hanging suspended like I'm leaving you
And my insides tear at every step
Until I run back to you

Baby come in, cuz its cold outside
you're leaving with your life and you're taking mine
Baby come back cuz I'm dying inside
I don't know how long I can make it on my own


Running Back to the Warmth I So Love

Light in the Crazy Times

We'll find out how everything in the story turns out
After tomorrow
If something happens tomorrow
Or I'll be stuck as the loser

And that would suck wouldn't it?