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If our bodies are laid beneath the earth, when our spirit transcends. What will I look like in heaven, when my life ends? Life is a mystery, mixed with misunderstood energies, a fluorescent whirl wind.
Patiently wading, holding onto my mind through the storm. Every person has a day, over time, the day has got to come. Embrace a grind, we won't have to grind for long.
Have mercy on my soul. For there's some things I do not know. Written stories have gone untold. Water the rose, over time it'll grow. What do you call a home, that's not a home? Lonely child, no one to hold.
Keep your eyes closed. Don't peek. We're almost there don't go to sleep.
What will happen if I sneak into heaven? I just want a glimpse of paradise.
Catch 22I rather be mute, than misinterpreted Because I take pride in understanding. But the less I say gives off more of a-misunderstanding.
Love is blind when you don't really know what it is.A beautiful bliss,Or is that just a myth?When you've truly found your person, What a gift.It's a reciprocal language but,
Go deeper,Shallow into the depths of your soul. Find your inner song.
Tears of joy start to fade, As the tears of sorrow overflow for the years I hid you away.
Wake up in the nighttime, I see the stars. Twinkle Twinkle little star, now i know just where you are. This feeling's overwelming, I hope I'm just pretending. This feeling in my heart, it just keeps extending.
Every petal painted pink and prime,Green leaves arranged with perfect symmetry,A few bright shades with which to tell a life,And yet a yearning in the purity. Structure formed and inside wholly planned,Meticulously minding every speck,Ideal distri
Hold your sign Tout your voice Hide your gun Love your choice The only way for change to come Is standing there and doing none while singing fantasies of peace illuding that this all can cease
I’m tired of all your fooling, your bitching, and all the gossiping You can’t get on the road without stopping causing the trafficking You sit around, lazy and can’t figure out what your slacking in
"Ahh... no, I don't want to break my head,me doing this flip will surely make me dead."My mind was always over exaggerated back then,I just wish I could do that first flip all over again.
Waking up everyday seems just so hard I am tired of this routine that got me off-guard I have no social life, I am like broken glass shards I been talking to myself, my only insanity ward
Start with an organic beat, Embellish it, make it new. Create, borrow, infuse, Add to the silence, Develop a beautiful blend.
Give me more energy I pace my bedroom floor thinking about you definitely What do I do? What do I say? My mindset can’t get rid of you
Sometimes my brain kicks on overdrive Running in circles and swirls and lines Antsy with thoughts I can't place racing by I can only conclude that I won’t be fine. One such day I took a walk
We are all standing single file waiting for our turn to plunge into the deep, dark abyss. At night I wonder, how often do two lives end in perfect unison on opposite sides of the world?
Wake up! Cling to the hours of the day, You're going to wish you had laid Down sooner, before the sun said hello. Pace, faster, keep from running disaster, You're final goals you're after,
When you speak to me, breathe sweet words into my ear drums through
No rhythm, no beat no tingle in these feet... I hear music, and in my seat I move Appearance? Dying With a smile on my face. Give me a song I know the words And my dancing feet
Grandma’s always got a “helpful remark.” She once told Sarah that she finally looked like a girl, and it only took her twelve years. But I suppose this is her love language,
Whenever I feel depressed, you may have guessed, I listen to music. The beat lifts my spirit whenever my ears are near it, and the lyrics I connect with, though that could be a myth.
Flowers sit still in the rain that pours nicely through all the night Thirsty, their petals accept heaven’s tears as clouds hide the light Footsteps are heard by the roses and tulips who love the sound,
Last night I thought that the Moon had disappeared. A clear sky with no Moon When I knew it should be a quarter full I'm still not sure where it went
The rhythm. The vibration. The sweet sense of passion. The ability to interpret emotion. All the minor falls and the major lifts have a direct connection. For with it comes peace, encouragement,
Match the beat With your heart Let in the rhythm And never part Just let yourself Be swallowed whole Make the music Part of your soul
If you looked for my name on the front of a book, I don’t think you’d bat an eye, For my story would be just words on a page, All meaningless words floating by,
Rhythm; A regulated beat or pattern of sound. But that is not how I roll, that is not who I am. I am wild, irregular even, and nobody can stop that. My beat drowns out everyone elses,
Breathe in, breathe out. A rhythm to sleep's sweet song, a dance that has no moves. His body, my warmth. His embrace for which I long, frustrations of the day, all at once, I lose.
My girl, smiles in the mornin Gets up by noon My girl, got me to keep her warm and I'll be there soon
You are the music of my heart, Each beat mistaken for a murmur, By every tone-deaf stethoscope, But I hear the melody. Your tuning harmonizes with mine, Making the very scales jealous,
If you could hear the things I hear,
A beat A rhythm A hook A chorus
Poetry The tall, dark and handsome man I long for His broad shoulders are the frames to the most beautiful painting His eyes illuminate in the sky like the stars Almost as if you could touch him,
There are so many things I want to tell you I was the quiet one in class who did all of his work But you still gave me the bad grades because I did not talk throughout your class
So it's like this intoxicating rhythm, this passion beyond belief That encompasses every fiber of existence in this room. It feels like a heartbeat or like some thrashing exotic beast
Tonight I don't want to be seem by the moon. I prefer to wait until tomorrow and talk to the sun. Tonight I just want to by myself and count how often I have dressed up in gold to the rays of the sun and put on wine as perfume.
A passion if there ever was one, They see it in my walk. The rhythm of the words flowing through me like music, They hear it when I talk.
Saluzcion's Never been the type to write my name on a ballot and cast a vote Placing my goals and aspirations on the next man's hope; nope Wasting time slow; going through procrastination,
I rather be thought a fool then open my mouth and remove all doubt; speaking on things I know nothing about or live through But the sad truth is so vague Like body ash in a cigarette ash tray, pause,
As I sit back and reclined Enjoying a cubano and glass of wine I cant help but think of the modern times; where ladies are hard to find, and all I see is dames and dymes
I'm either gonna rise above poverty or define my existence A poetic vision, encrypted with a hustler's ambition, listen dying for what a icon stands for ain't the mission
Isolation and depression Go hand-in-hand When you’re too far away from where you should stand.
I was concieved as nothing less than a miracleFrom 3-7 was too damn hysterical8-12 i was growing up, afriad to be minimalSo by 13 I became an infamous criminalFrom 14-16, i paid my does, so i thought; super imbecil
A few years ago, I had to make a decision Remain in the hood and risk going to prison Continue to allow the evil to cloud my vision Or pick up a pen and become a musician Ever lyric, every bar, became my ammunition
It's not that I wanna screw it up, I just so happen to be good at itIt's not as if I don't wanna quit, but unfortunately for me I'm like my father another addict.
EVEN WHEN I FREE-FALL YOU WILL NEVER SEE ME SWEAT. THROUGH MY DOWNFALL, I NEVER LOST RESPECT. I AIN'T COMPLAINING, I'M MAINTAINING THAT CONSIGLIARE MENTALITY THESE OTHER CATS AIN'T IN.
We fear rejection, we want attention, We crave affection and dream of perfectionWe wanna screw life; penetrationBut shes screws us over; procrastination In the end we end up jerking ourselves; masturbation
The way she moves makes it seem Like she is made of music. The very image of lust. She is the vulture of rock concerts, Feeding on dead space. She rides the lightning back into town,