Sometimes I'll laugh at your stupid jokes
Sometimes, only sometimes
Sometimes I'll pout and walk about
Sometimes, only sometimes.
If writing verse were seen as cursed, then down with the devil I'd be.
The world can't end or comprehend just what this means to me.
For when in doubt I come about with such and such a phrase.
Swift will I write, all through the night, till I see the sun's sweet rays.
Where is the line between the foolish and the brave
If you do not know, how can you judge?
It is said that the brave soul still fears the grave
And a fool is one for whom the grave, in daylight, waits
The tears I drop
Dry into clouds
They will always fade away
My skin will fall
There exists in us a little light
In some, very faint, in some, very bright
My little light now yearns
It pulses with my beat