Walk with me you foolish man,
don't set aside your distant dream.
Burn your self with feeble lies,
and touch your fire to my chest.
Our hearts collide, for all the wrong reasons.
Bedtime stories on hot summer nights,
lullabies sung during cold, dead winter.
And, crimson red roses lining the spring and fall.
Flowers and poetic stores can't change the lyrics,
since multiple personalities etch my face,
and I'm lying to myself with paranoia whispering,
to just let our hearts collide, for all the wrong reasons.
