You swim in my blood. My veins, as blue as your eyes, when I see you cry. Pearly whites when you smile, you smile through your God, when life seems too hard. Let's skip the facts now, and get on with our needs. Loud and pretentious, that brings me off to sleep. I know there are things that you can't say to me. I'll always stay here, when I'm the one you need.

There you go down raging waters below. White rapids singing in harmony. So I was told that you don't know who you are, when you have clouded streams flowing inbetween your eyes. Quiet now. I don't need to wake you up. I will slide on in the bed with you now, and hold you close until the waters slow down. Before I knew things wouldn't go like they should, I had this feeling I could catch you from the edge. I heard inside of my sleep, "You can come back to me now." I run and run and run to keep up with you now. I listened and I spoke, to a girl who wasn't here when I lifted the covers; awoke from a sleep deep underneath the sea. I hate waking up from dreams where I fall in love. Love that seems so far away in the real world. I hate waking up from dreams where I fall for you. You will always be the same to me. Justify the means of the warm summer air that speaks in harsh languages that I do not want to carry around this heavy heart in a city long gone. Fall asleep to ocean breeze. There's still a touch of you around; a touch I'd never want to forget. And so long ago we met and then you saw my face again. I hate waking up from dreams where I fall in love. Summer stars were different this year. They weren't the same without you here. I hate waking up from dreams where I fall for you. I'd never want to lose you. You're the most wonderful girl in my twenty one year old world.

Some escape some door to open. This path seems the blackest but I guess it's the soonest, but there in the clearing I know you'll be wearing your young aching smile and waving your hand. Can't go with my heart when I can't feel what's in it. I thought you'd come over but for some reason you didn't. Glass on the pavement under my shoe without you is all my life amounts to. A final sleep no words from my cutting mouth to your ear or taut wicked pinches from my fingers to your bitter face that I can't heal. I know tomorrow you will be somewhere in London living with someone. You've got some kind of family there to turn to and that's more than I could ever give you. A chance for calm. A hope for freedom. Outlet from my cold solitary kingdom by the forest of our spring stay where you walked away and left a bleeding part of me empty and bothered, watching the water. Quiet in the corner numb and falling through. Without you what does my life amount to?

Looking down on empty streets, all she can see are the dreams all made solid, all the dreams made real. All of the buildings, and all of the cars were once just a dream in somebody's head. She pictures the broken glass, she pictures the steam. She pictures a soul with no leak at the seam. Let's take the boat out wait until darkness. Let's take the boat out wait until darkness comes. Nowhere in the corridors of pale green and grey. Nowhere in the suburbs in the cold light of day There in the midst of it so alive and alone; words support like bone. Dreaming of Mercy Street. Wear your inside out. Dreaming of mercy in your daddy's arms again. Dreaming of Mercy Street. Swear they moved that sign. Dreaming of mercy in your daddy's arms. Pulling out the papers from the drawers that slide smooth. Tugging at the darkness, word upon word. Confessing all the secret things in the warm velvet box, to the priest-he's the doctor, he can handle the shocks. Dreaming of the tenderness-the tremble in the hips of kissing Mary's lips. Dreaming of Mercy Street. Wear your inside out. Dreaming of mercy in your daddy's arms again. Dreaming of Mercy Street. Swear they moved that sign. Dreaming of mercy in your daddy's arms. Anne, with her father; he's out in the boat riding the water. Riding the waves on the sea.

Don't let me forget this time because you know my memory isn't so good. You know I was a beat up loser to try and do things the best I could. I stare down. I look away, I don't want to see the mess I've made. I'll try once. I'll try two. I'll try almost anything to get back to you. Don't let me regret this time that I'm not the nervous man who would. I know I was that shitty loser who'd frame my mistakes on a wall. White walls are standing still causing reflection of the sun against my curtains, it's keeping me still from doing things that I hate or doing things that I love to do.

I stood outside an old house. I stood outside an old house that I've known since 1993. I stood outside an old house, an old house where I used to play outside on North Jackson Street back when I was younger and every thing I saw, it looked so vivid, meant so much to me. I shut it out; all of our bad times. I wanted it all; fixing all of your faults. And on the floor of my window porch. I'm letting go of my feelings low. Who can deny that there is a loving in our eyes? It ain't contrived all this magic in our lives. Blooms up like a cloud then drizzles and cries. Media transit station, where trains took us to and from our lovely city: Philadelphia. Both of us wanted to go and travel to the cities finest art museum. Holding hands in Love Park and sitting down late at night to watch the water in the lake dark. I held it out; watching both of our eyes. Freezing our time under the night skies. Leaving your ghost on the Schuylkill coast. Tremble in the hips when I kissed those lips. Who can deny that there is a loving in our eyes? It ain't contrived all this magic in our lives. Blooms up like a cloud then drizzles and dies.

Some escape some door to open. This path seems the blackest but I guess it's the soonest, but there in the clearing I know you'll be wearing your young aching smile and waving your hand. Can't go with my heart when I can't feel what's in it. I thought you'd come over but for some reason you didn't. Glass on the pavement under my shoe without you is all my life amounts to. A final sleep no words from my cutting mouth to your ear or taut wicked pinches from my fingers to your bitter face that I can't heal. I know tomorrow you will be somewhere in London living with someone. You've got some kind of family there to turn to and that's more than I could ever give you. A chance for calm. A hope for freedom. Outlet from my cold solitary kingdom by the forest of our spring stay where you walked away and left a bleeding part of me empty and bothered, watching the water. Quiet in the corner numb and falling through. Without you what does my life amount to?