I walk outside and take in the fresh air-
it smells like a place that I remember.
sometimes I come home and nobody's there,
and I feel old each year in september.
crunching the colorful leaves in the fall,
and clinging to my insecurity.
I could patch up all the cracks on the wall,
but blood stains the curtains of purity.
"it's time to wake up! time to rise and shine,
it's sunday and we have a dinner guest."
you were never mine and I guess that's fine,
I'll put on a dress, try to look my best.
life can be a shallow grave that has turned,
and I chased the sun too much and got burned.