Was it you who spoke the words that; things would happen, but not to me?
All things, are gonna happen naturally.

She said it wouldn't happen, at least not during that time, but slowly and steadily whether it was realized or not, she slipped into it. Simultaneously, the one thing that I had been staking my hopes on all that time vanished as powdered glass in the wind. The struggle came, then, of having to accept that such things happen whether we want them to or not (for hadn't the very same thing happened to me?), and though a stand might have been taken against it, such barriers are inadequate in withholding the barrage that feelings create.


Oh, taking your advice and I'm looking on the bright side
And balancing the whole thing.

Tried, a hundred, a thousand times, to count the blessings and look at the stars. Sometimes, it takes a happy turn and I can skip and I can jump, but when the solitude and silence takes hold, those memories creep back in and the scales tip in favour of the melancholic.


Oh, but at often times those words get tangled up in lines

And though they would like to materialize as long, heartfelt wordspills of anger, love, hate, jealousy, happiness, resentment, hope, promises, and pledges, they can't, because the neck of the message in the bottle is stoppered with the cork of fear. Though some scraps of parchment filter through as the papyrus rots with time and the ink trickles down its mouth, the murkiness of the smudged ink disguises the true meaning of the words.

And the bright light turns to night

The mercurial darkness - so shiny yet so full of doom at the same time - brings a fatalistic mindset to even the best of us.

Oh, until the dawn it brings
Another day to sing about the magic that was you and me

But with every dusk, there's bound to be a dawn, and as the radiant beams of light emanating from the burden that Apollo's chariot carries permeate the horizon, my heart is reminded and filled with song about every precious moment that I ever had with you.

Cause you and I both loved
What you and I spoke of

It was simply amazing, all the little coincidences and unexpected similarities. Perhaps it only goes to show that opposites, and not identicals, attract. A shared, intense love of fantasy, but differing opinions as to whom the fantasy should be shared with.

And others just read of
Others only read of, of the love
Of the love that I loved

And I believe, although some might say they've never had passions of such enormity and felt on such a heightened scale before, that everyone will eventually. It's only a matter of time. It's only by my folly that I've been struck more than a few times. Truly, it was a love that I loved, and it was a love that was more like a gleaming, polished mirror with an intricately carved handle, unlike say, a coin - a coin that has two sides.

See I'm all about them words
Over numbers, unencumbered numbered words;
Hundreds of pages, pages, pages forwards.
More words than I had ever heard, and I feel so alive.

The thousands of words written about the single, recurring theme: wordplay and literature of the mind's eye regurgitated onto a digital stylus. The rhythm that they're poured out onto the screen keeps in time with the pulse of this still beating heart: which, frankly, surprises even it's owner as to it's longevity despite having its lifeblood wrenched away from it.

Cause you and I both loved
What you and I spoke of (of, of)
And others just read of

And if you could see me now
Oh, you and I, you and I
Not so little you and I anymore

In a year, we're all grown up, grown up in all our different ways.

And with this silence brings a moral story
More importantly evolving is the glory of a boy

A silence settling over that seems so hard to penetrate: what once used to bloom with joy and life now confined to fair-weather linguistics and the not so importants. The moral of the story is still boy loves girl, but more significantly, boy comes out the better for it, hopefully.

Cause you and I both loved
What you and I spoke of (of, of)
And others just read of
And if you could see me now
Well, then I'm almost finally out of
I'm finally out of
I'm finally deedeedeedeedeedee
Well I'm almost finally, finally
Well I am free
Oh, I'm free

Am I really? Perhaps, because those shackles do grow a little lighter, but only come back to bind me in full force whenever that image comes into my mind, to picture a bliss where I am cut out, snipped away and flung into a waste bin drawn into the scrapbook of her life as perfectly detailed as that decorating the wall outside of the Art Room.

And it's okay if you had to go away
Oh, just remember the telephones
well, they work in both ways.

You had to go away.. I understand.
And remember this, if anything, it takes two hands to clap.

But if I never ever hear them ring
If nothing else I'll think the bells inside
Have finally found you someone else and that's okay
Cause I'll remember everything you sang

The tolling bells, they have indeed, and it's a bitter, bitter man that you see before you. One that, despite the bitterness, does not withhold his blessing, but tries unsuccessfully to fulfill himself with the happiness that he sees before him. But you've got to give him some credit for trying, trying his very best. And if you happen to see him walking away clutching his breast and screwing up his eyes as if trying to remember some distant memory, grab hold of the nearest psychic quick as you can. Because in those memories, the places and the days, hours, minutes, and seconds spent are infused with a primordial essence of happiness and perfection that transform the landscape into one as perfect as that of Old Narnia, of which perfection you'd have to read the books of C.S. Lewis to find out of course.

Cause you and I both loved
What you and I spoke of (of, of)
And others just read of
and if you could see me now
Well, then I'm almost finally out of
I'm finally out of,
I'm finally deedeedeedeedeede

Well I'm almost finally, finally
Out of words