White feathers, whisky and the sound of heaven,
Bluebirds, silk and cheap perfume...

It doesn't matter how great she says you are,
nor how beautiful...

You grip my finger in your tiny hand
and you look at me as if I have all the answers...

You think you can silence us, tape our mouths with...
You're wrong if you think we'll be held down and...

I tell you, you're beautiful,
and you look away and I know you don't see it...

We do not walk these streets to be judged.
for we love, the same as others...

I panic.
Not just worry, but full on panic...

I'm drunk on love and falling hard.
The taste of coffee, your strawberry hair...

Like the scars that line her arms,
amid a dark and blackened heart...

It rests on four legs, much the same it did back...
though its edges a little rounder, it’s top...

So many things to say,
thousands of thoughts entangled within...

Lead me with your cliche's,
And let a whisper skim your lips...