CoeurI'll set my hair on fireI'll choke myself with wiresI'll start a gunfireI'll go through a wildfireI'll stab my neighbor's tireThe hearts and likes I get are never lowAnd that's great for my empty ego
strand of hair no.4Sometimes the people I care about don't realize I care for themOr not that muchThey don't realize itI'd do the biggest small things for themI'd fill a basket of paper cranes for themI'd be all ears for themI'd run my life away with themI'd open their eyes to the worldI'd go to hell and back for themI'd paint a beautiful interpretation of life for themI don't want them to return the careI just want them to acknowledge the careAnd to appreciate the care
why does the end have to come as soon as we startWhy you gotta come in my lifeWhy you gotta unintentionally flip everything upside downWhy you gotta heal me so quicklyWhy you gotta let me see the wonders of the worldWhy you gotta mess up everything in my lifeWhy you gotta add so many colors into my lifeWhy you gotta make me so confusedWhy you gotta be a friendWhy you gotta be a good friendWhy you gotta be a best friendWhy you gotta be a likeable personWhy you gotta be a crushWhy you gotta be so much better than the last special personI thought he was a 10Seeing you, I now realize he’s just a 1
like a cookie in teaour friendship falls apartlike a cookie dipped in teathe cookie soon turns crumbles down in the teathen someone dumps it outa sweet treat to begin withends up in the garbagelike a cookie dipped in teaour relationship is crumbling downas it’s being drowned ina nasty cup ofmisunderstanding,avoiding one another,vague,teai hate you
These tiny loiterers on the barley's beard,And happy units of a numerous herdOf playfellows, the laughing Summer brings,Mocking the sunshine in their glittering wings,How merrily they creep, and run, and fly!No kin they bear to labour's drudgery,Smoothing the velvet of the pale hedge-rose;And where they fly for dinner no one knows--The dew-drops feed them not--they love the shineOf noon, whose sun may bring them golden wine.All day they're playing in their Sunday dress--Till night goes sleep, and they can do no less;Then, to the heath bell's silken hood they fly,And like to princes in their slumbers lie,
Blessed be Thou for all the joyMy soul has felt today!O let its memory stay with meAnd never pass away!I was alone, for those I lovedWere far away from me,The sun shone on the withered grass,The wind blew fresh and free.Was it the smile of early springThat made my bosom glow?'Twas sweet, but neither sun nor windCould raise my spirit so.Was it some feeling of delight,All vague and undefined?No, 'twas a rapture deep and strong,Expanding in the mind!
I WROTE some lines once on a timeIn wondrous merry mood,And thought, as usual, men would sayThey were exceeding good.They were so queer, so very queer,I laughed as I would die;Albeit, in the general way,A sober man am I.I called my servant, and he came;How kind it was of himTo mind a slender man like me,He of the mighty limb."These to the printer," I exclaimed,And, in my humorous way,I added, (as a trifling jest,)"There'll be the devil to pay."