Trace around her lips with his fingers, he tries to draw on a smile,
Give it time. These scars are the stars that will show you the light.
And now she s all he sees; he stays awake to watch her breathe the unheard
melodies; the grace notes of her restless sleep.

Hold me now, don t let it fade away from here. It s so clear

His tattered undershirt a souvenir that she likes to breathe in.
She sighs days doing nothing unconscious of time.
And now he s all she sees; she stays awake to watch him breathe the unknown
poetry; sweet sonnets of how it should be.

And everybody might just have these same ideas--
these same plans--I suppose

We ve found a perfect niche: where plastic meets perfect, kill substance for
style
But inside, we get burned by the fuel that we cannot deny.