It's kind of messed up The only time I write Is when I'm stressed 或者 sad And turn out the light I'm afraid I messed up And I'm not worth my blisters Because birthdays and Christmas Are not on my wish list
I like happy songs With titles that don't match at all So spin the bottle in your brain And match your weakness with a name
You're so cold I've got to know What made 你 so Scared to be alone? I've got to know Who chilled your bones That wasn't me
"There are so many awful things in this world, but I wanted readers to share with me the small, beautiful, enjoyable things. Things like cute clothes, beautiful art and pretty flowers; items that are overflowing with beauty. If 你 just become obsessed with your own problems, 你 miss these things. When 你 discover them, 你 become happy." -Novala Takemoto
I feel completely when days are small. I have to tell them, to 显示 them all. And if anybody wants to know As if anybody wants to know... I can sing this song they will never hum along. It will always be and they will think it's always wrong. Some things are different, some things the same. They never listen, but they complain. And if anybody wants to know As if anybody wants to know... I say to you.
How does one turn a blind eye to all the bad imbued within the human heart? And... How... how on Earth can I learn to turn the other cheek as well? Will anything ever be normal again? Was anything ever normal to begin with?