Breeze

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This can’t be right.
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There’s some-thing in-side
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that binds me.
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Spen-ding my nights
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think-ing of ways
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you’ll find me.
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Clo-ser to the su-n.

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And I will
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Swal-low my pride.
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For-get all the lies
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from lo-vers.
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I know it’s been said.
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The skirts on the bed.
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Hearts flut-ter.
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Thoughts of su-i-cid-e or flo-wers.

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Like I’ve said it’s kind of sad.
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We can’t hold on.
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And pain is said
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to sweep a-way what’s left of breath-ing.
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Like I’ve said it’s kind of sad.
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You won’t hold on.
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A lo-ver’s bed.
4 5 4 4 4 5 4 4 4
Now dor-mant and de-prived of mean-ing.

Breeze

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