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

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

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

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

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

Her porcelain dress caught in the wind,
pulling away from all that consumes the mangled...

Thought I had it all figured out...
Dripping water hits my skin...

It pains me when I speak,
of those nights spent alone...