The obstacles are there,
Within certain moments we encounter
Of a nature we were built to bear
But ever,also, made to wonder.

Hurry I might, with my catchy phrases,
To deliver that which,seen from underneath,
Seems light, but I stumble aswell,
Over a finished word
And go back often,
To struck another sound out of that chord;

My songs are therefore,
Not to be taken literally.
For I could say how much I adore
That which not a moment before
Pressed on my chest,felt so weary.

And this happens all the time;
And I also wonder what “all the time” is.
Days that I hardly notice,
Busy with my wording of things,
I forget there are such things.

I realize I haven’t seen them in a while.
I have been seeing you,
At the periphery of my line of sight.
My eyes ,charmed
About a mountain range of words
Beneath an endless blue
Of choosing wrongs or rights.

I’ve been travelling alot, lately.
I ran a marathon about uncovering the truth.
And I’m willing to share with you my findings,
I’m willing to say than when I thought of it,of you,
It hurt. When I felt , it didn’t.

Love, is it ?
Of what force, do we recollect
When we lean forward and backwards
Between uncontrolled events
Of which attraction we are powerless,against ?

Remind me what love is,
For I know all too well why we like to do so.
We complement eachother
But all inner things have their opposite force at work
So we compliment eachother.

I like hearing what I don’t like,
Because we hardly like to sing
The songs of our favorite singers.
They do it better.
We enjoy their lyrics, be it sorrow,
Be it about how much I love or I hate her;
We hate ruining their song with our shallow voices.

We whisper what they dare entertain a crowd with.
And when they say it, it’s so good.
Even as we cry,
This mirror through which we peak at one another
Allows us to entertain this mood.

How often have you hurried to laugh,
And laugh so madly,
That they never thought to ask
Of all those tears in your eyes ?
Because you’re tired of answers
Lasting no longer
Than a revolution of the skies ?

Tomorrow is a catchy phrase.
It simply means you’re heading forward.
And thinking you will be different to-morrow
Because to-day you can’t…
Is thinking you’ll be dying sooner
If you’re about to faint.

So much emotion hoarding
Beneath your silent breath,
Praying to pictures of your loved one
Thinking you might be saint.
But underneath the layer of your faith
The lies are those which thread your fate.

You said tomorrow, and it never came.
Tomorrow came, as always
And in your loneliness
You found your time to blame.

Next year maybe ?
Maybe if you could speak your mind?
Sure, go scratch the surface of that maybe;
And when the paint has peeled off,
What did you find ?

I found it was filled with air
And I could write anything
Where the word stood.
It is only fair that I’ll never get to know how it feels,
If I always write about it,
And positive feedback coming through this mirror
Says that maybe I should.

Emotions in themselves have no value
If there’s no value added to them.
They are of a nature so much different
Than how we portray them in words.
They carry, just as the shape of a cloud
Carries the water and colour of it.
You can guess what I’m feeling about,
Picking off my obvious thoughts.
You can say it’s allright and it’s good
But you can never play this song on my chords.

And so we encourage one another
To mean what we’re saying and say what we mean.
You can then say you love how the sky feels
Because your eyes, knowing truth, are now clean.
You haven’t cried in a while, since you know how it feels.
Just talk about it, just try run down a valley
As if your feet were wheels.

Do it over and over until you run so fast
That not a moment goes by,
Without having a blast
Beneath that grey overcast !

Run your fingers
Through this vast vocabulary thoughts provide.
At the end of the day there’s nothing you haven’t felt about him or her,
No emotions left to satisfy your pride.
And you’ll never admit you would trade all of that
For a chance at kissing his or her lips
While yours are sealed so tight.

You’ll have doubts about yourself.
About all that you feel
And often you’ll try to make it right
By scratching that maybe,
In between sleep and meals.
But when the night sets in
And your chords are still ringing
Notice that subtle tingling in your heart
And restlesness of hips.
The truth ain’t always in the choices that you make
Once in a while you ain’t even carrying.
Spiritually,speaking, maybe it means that you’re awake.

Do kiss those lips that one time when they’re closer,
Lest you will end up faking being fake.