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I'm seeing lots of red and not much green go scrollin' by on the television screen
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Autumn's always dying season, and winter's always dead and during this crumbling time of year, there's chaos in my head.
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Different places reflect light in different ways, and my grandmother's house reflects orange. This light is dim, barely illuminating the old white walls and clean brown carpet, tinting everything with that yellow-red glow.
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Poetry feels like the breath of someone you love, while they are sleeping
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So its raining outside and I'm warm and dry for right now But I'm sitting alone at this screen with the lights out
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I found some old journal entries that I really liked. They weren't dated. Some of the things my friends said were really poignant. I shake
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We're looking for some turns of phrase
some new and different words and ways
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I bequeth myself to the dirt to grow from the grass I love.
Life again in a different form
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When it all comes down to it,
All we'll ever be is men
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A nighttime rider gallops, shadows on his tail
and nothing lighting his rough way on the narrow, winding trail
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Were you looking for God today?
Looked like you needed to pray.
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The threatening air settles in,
first sliding into the low places,
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And so, forward,
called by the war-drums of our hearts,
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I see fingers tapping anxiously
and pacing back and forth in the restless hall
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I'm still wishing on the stars at night
what about you?
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Francais:
Commet peut je mesurer
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I can be your hero, I can save you if you'll let me
your safety belt, your diary, your sad song and your therapy
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Tension.
Muscles tightened and emotions numb,
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You move me in that / heart pounding, skull bursting, voice screaming / way. / You move me delicately, forcefully, / unknowingly. / You move me like goosebumps and poetry, / and music and freedom, / and anything
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Act I: / Whispers plauge the streets with secrets and / Seeds of doubt, expertly sown, / Begin the ending of an era / The speak of Caesar's
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I'm left alone underneath the tree / Where I should have taken your hand / Thinking about mornings I wasted / And everything that I learned
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It's not optimism, it's spite / Smiling at Fate's evil deeds / There's no use dwelling on tragedies / Move on and keep grinning / It will only hurt as much as you let it / Cut off the circulation to the wound / D
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I'm playing hide and seek with / the voice that's in my head, / trying to avoid it's echoing reminders / of my faults and mistakes. / There
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If there were a song I could sing / That could go back in time and change everything / I'd compose it for you just to let you know / That I loved you...before you decided that you had to go / If there were a poem
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There's this girl and she's thinking about you / She's wishing on stars and pulling off petals / Filling pages and pillows with liquid regret / And faking acceptance as you forget her / You're just a boy so you p
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God is plauging me with / The quest for the holy grail- / Knowledge. The compulsion to / Search my mind for the answers / What is right and
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I'm looking for a poem to make me whole again / I'm searching for words in empty lockers / Turns of phrases in lunchboxes / and ryhme inside pockets, love inside / your lockets, minds, and hearts / Down the hal
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Version française: / Une belle nuit / me suffoque dans l'obscurité / Je ne peux pas voir que des étoiles / En raison de la fumée de ville
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