I rarely wish anymore; I don’t ask for miracles, wait and hope or more like fear, I can’t tell count how many nightmares I’ve endured, but none of any prophecy as of late, yet I wish to go back to bed and turn off and on my lamp. Well Wish Me, Will.
Rage, rage, against the dying of the light they say and I snuff it out willing, well not really haven’t had such an occasion in years, in probably a decade even but the wishes keep coming. “Placating My Sugar”, I try, another day would be easier
Plenty of days I don’t think Happy even exist but why should I be happy on this particular day, shouldn’t I be happy every day or at least be allowed to look for it in my own way, even in my darkness. “How to Fireproof Happy” don’t expect any candles
She looks at me, I look at her and pow, or maybe boom; hearts say so many things and we’re listening or I’m listening, can’t speak for her. “Sweet Something Speak”… sweet nothings but lovers have their ways but me, I can’t tell her this way, that way
In the end, love has always been my destination because after “everything” and there have been a lot of those, I just feel… empty. I suppose when I come down, when I crash, when I bomb, I just want to be somewhere… with her. “Love A Destination”