The pulpit is beautifully furnished and brightBut it's rotted in places not seen by the light

A real patriot wont pretend everything is fineSit back in an arm chair and blissfully reclineWhile the streets burn I’ll point out the signsAnd maybe we’ll fix this country of mine.

I look up upon a sparsely starred abyssHaving wandered to this street cornerIn the middle of the nightWatching the cars and people go byWonderingIf this deep, black nothingnessIs the sum total of being human.

Sleepless nightsSpent looking at the ceilingSearching in those etched patternsFor some sort of adhesiveTo glue together the broken piecesOf a soul crushedBy the weight of the fact thatLife is profoundly sad.

You brought me to placesI’d have never thought to goTo a trail near the riverWhere the water runs slow;To a mountain where all we heardWas our voices’ echo;You showed me inward beautyThat doesn’t show in photos.

I found a night’s sky full of starsIn your cinematic eyesAnd heard a symphonyIn your laughter.

Call me obsessed, color me consumedI’ve always been the type to noticeThe smell of a rose in bloom,But let me confess, this is newYou’ve stopped my heart, let it resumeAnd I, to finish, must tell it trueI’m high on your perfume.

You are my drug of choiceI know you’re no good for meAnd though I swear my lipsWill never touch you againHere we are, here we are.

Love gives the best of highsBut also the worst of hangovers.