Been quite in love with this song as of late…
Been quite in love with this song as of late…
The path that leads to my door is lined with pebbles and stones
Beyond the bricks and foundation, through the fire, and into the dark,
I will run through the garden hidden behind iron gates.
Where sparks of light flicker in the hearts of sinners,
Where darkness carresses the souls of saints.
An eternity in this place has left the blind able to see.
And all who look upon the garden at first glance visionless.
The deaf need not hear, for the deaf have heard the call of truth.
And as the house around my door gets caught in flames,
Of all the things that I’ve burned down, wonder which one will remain.
1. Drop of Smoke- Hudson Taylor
2. Coming Home, Pt. II- Skylar Grey
3. Goodbye- Sean Fournier
4. Crowbar Hotel- Chadwick Stokes
5. Dear Doubt- Michael Schulte
6. Great Vacation- Dirt Poor Robins
7. The Nights- Avicii
8. Flawless- The Neighbourhood
9. Drift- Alina Baraz & Galimatias
10. Details- Andrew Belle
11. Wicked Man’s Rest- Passenger
12. Texas- Magic Man
13. Dreamers- Savoir Adore
14. Let Me Go- The Belleville Outfit
15. Paper Heart- St Lucia
16. Running Back to You- For The Foxes
17. We’re Not Alone- Echosmith
18. I Bet My Life- Imagine Dragons
19. Comes And Goes In Waves (2013 Remake)- Greg Laswell
20. Love Story- Dallas String Quartet
21. Do I Wanna Know?- Artic Monkeys
22. La La La- Jasmine Thompson
23. Get Home- Bastille
24. Trampoline- The Unlikely Candidates
25. Sleep Alone- Two Door Cinema Club
We go round and round,
I lift up my hands,
Hoping you’ll drop the gun
You’ve aimed at my chest
Drinking in the poison,
Listening to records spinning round
What do we do now?
There’s a long way down.
Far from where we’ve been,
Nothing lasts in the end
There’s nothing to show,
But one last standing
One last breath
Before the trigger is pulled at last
Spiraling into the lost
Forever, one day it will be found
Where lies are born
And truth is hidden underneath
The heart that bleeds out on the floor
A quick step, footsteps towards the door
Everything will become slow
As the record stops going round and round.
I have no left over feelings, just left over memories
I’ve nothing else to say, when all I can do is breathe
Close my eyes, and think of someone I kissed in dreams
The room spins, the glass spills across the table
The chair you once sat in, the book you wrote in
Where did you go? For there is a hole in my mind.
A place you should have been. Can you ever find it?
The place where we existed in conversations deep.
There may not be photographic evidence,
There perhaps may not be anyone who saw what we built together,
But the impact of being apart may be the reason why
I’m still a girl who may not be wise when it comes to past lives
I see all the could-bes in my life, and as I move, you too move
Whether in my direction or towards another sunrise
I am here, thinking over all the things never said
And all the things that could be done, is there time to say we won?
There’s conviction in both our eyes, and yet we’ve not looked there
For the answers and truths we voice and write.
I can’t shake this thought, and each step forward is another step
That will lead me closer or further away from you.
In any place I hope there’s still a chance to find
The places you disappear where no one else is seeking to find.
When you close your eyes
If the image of your deepest desire
Comes in the form of a human being
Then you’ve been cursed
With a hopeless romantic personality.
When someone asks you if you believe
In surreal and abstract things,
In your heart if you believe in 1000 impossible things,
Then go and find your truth in places only you can reach.
When insanity is met with sanity
And the word spelled l.o.v.e is used to name that pairing,
Then you know even if it’s an illusion it can be reality.
When you’ve held on to a matter of the past
It can indeed be the same as a dream
And perhaps one day fade away and disappear.
Though if the memory has yet to leave your mind
Then continue to fight in the name of your own being
For all humans have are their own
Hopeless romantic obsessions created to spark deeper meaning.
I find truth in strangers’ eyes. I seek miracles when the time isn’t right. I look out windows hoping I can catch a glimpse of a shadow before it passes by. I see the same image before me wherever I look. And am constantly consumed by a will I’ve had for centuries. I kind of have to be a hopeless romantic when it comes to you.
Once upon a dream,
All the made up stories,
Dancing around fires,
Ghosts who protect the living,
Flames burn, and sparks ignite
Some kind of phoenix on the rise,
Wild passions under the moonlight,
The wanderlust of a gypsy soul,
Daybreak and twilight,
Light that spills through broken windows,
Coffee and memories,
Dreams of a phantom thief,
Dark gardens with roses and iron gates,
Bare feet that dance on wooden floors,
Books covered in dust,
Pages yellowed with age,
Leather bound journal with fresh cursive letters in red ink
Stories not yet told,
Photographs of moments never to come back
The red thread that binds and time that passes by
Fallen walls, and battles that don’t win wars
Grace, loyalty, sincerity, and insanity,
Reaching for starlight and kissing destiny,
Tiger’s eyes and hazel eyes,
Of all the things, fingers that create beautiful things.
“People fail to realize protesting and willing to die for your cause are two different things. Those who preach and seek the destruction and death of others are not the type of people who will change this country or the world.” -S.K.
My response to all the recent protests/events that have called for action in the USA. Normally I leave my political feelings out of my writing, but this is my simple response.
She had been lying awake at night, thinking over on dreams and hopes. Wishful thinking of a miracle romance, and falling for a phantom thief. And even though her feelings had yet to short-circuit, and even if she could make a call at midnight, just to hear whispers of things far from her reach, never did she give up believing in this kind of destiny. Despite, her heart seeking out the touch of someone’s hand, the shoulder she could rest her head, and gentle lips to kiss against her forehead. So as she wrote, and looked at the world around her, she wanted to take a chance on a knight that was closer, in the hopes that the phantom thief could return what he had stole, but every part of her soul is just another victim of the red thread that binds, with nothing but time…