Love is as much of an object as an obsession, everybody wants it, everybody seeks it, but few ever achieve it, those who do will cherish it, be lost in it, and among all, never… never forget it.
Curtis Judalet
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The Foreboding Sense of Impending Happiness
By your heart strings I'm hanging from a dream,
Gently swinging in the warm autumn breeze.
Come look at the scars, smother a heart, opening up.
Look at the scars, smother a heart, opening up, no more.
Tip toeing along a strand of your hair suspended between,
These thoughts and actions miles above reality.
Come look at the scars, smother a heart, opening up.
Look at the scars, smother a heart, opening up.
Come look at the scars, smother a heart, opening up.
Look at the scars, smother a heart, opening up.
Look at the scars, smother a heart, opening up.
Look at the scars, smother a heart, opening up.
Look at the scars, smother a heart, opening up.
Look at the scars, smother a heart, opening up.
Opening up, opening up, opening up, opening up.
Look at the scars, you open me up, open me up.
Smother a heart, opening up, opening up.
Look at the scars, you open me up, opening up, open me up