Hypocrite
why do you keep talking...

There is true beauty
in these tumbling red leaves...

My heart is hurting
Lord...

Mondays smell like burning
saturdays taste sweet, like honey...

Everyone wants to know how to bottle the sunrise
but i have her sitting on a page...

When you're crying
and you can't help but frown...

I stand here,
my heart in my hands...

Saturday nights
wide awake...

I don't know when
these words...

Tornado realities
spinning out of control...

She fell, breaking her crimson lines
And discovered something radical, change...

Sure, her art's a different kind
but she's breaking from her shell...