The pains of now are provocatively painful and push us powerfully to places we would prefer not to go. However, the pains of memory hopefully lessen with the distance of time.

Writers are like gods,
While singers are angels;
Writers can be both,
If we fit in both angles;

Writers are creators
And the preservers of history,
Keeping accurate records,
From century to century;

Writers are prophets,
And oracles too,
We speak of the future,
Most of which comes through;

Writers are artists,
We create drawings in words,
And nothing's been more beautiful,
Than our gallery of words;

Writers are warriors
Winning wars with words-
Bullets and machine guns in our letters,
Have ended numerous discords;

Writers can be good lovers,
With strong emotions too,
A heart that is very fragile,
willing to share a love that's true.

There's a big difference
Between love and hate
While one gives away
The other one saves
Using their hearts
Like most do a bank
In the deposit
Of love and hate

Love in its interest
Runs rather high
With not many willing
To pay the price
Though when banking on hate
Most people find
Borrowing from love
Would have been wise

Because there's a big difference
Between love and hate
Where the dividends
Of love far out way
Anything at all that
Hate has to say
So be wise
In where you choose to bank

if you see me out late at night
looking like i'm about to cry
please believe it's allergies
and not the fact she's not with me

though i'll never really understand
the main reason that she left
so if my head is hanging low
it's not the fact i miss her so

if she's near me and my heart skips a beat
that's not to say she's my greatest need
or i miss her more than i let on
since the day that she's been gone

i'm doing fine, the time of my life
remember these aren't tears i cry
all a part of being a man
nothing to do with lost romance

as anyone can plainly see
all this doesn't mean a thing

On a hot August night in Memphis
At the tinder age of forty two
Behind the gates of Graceland
America lost its tune

Gather round the throne room
The king is sadly dead
On the cold linoleum floor
Is where he last laid his weary head

Fought so many battles
In the star filled lonely life he lived
If you're keeping score this is one war
That he lost the battle in

His scepter it was golden
His voice it was the same
He just lost his soul is all
Somewhere along the way

With papers read the words they bled
Out on the written page
Tears that poured as the world all mourned
And still  do to this day

So bow your heads the king is dead
Elvis has left the building after all
Although long gone there is still the song
And he still is the king of rock and roll

I could say I've wasted my time with you,
but it wouldn't be true
because I don't regret our conversations or the times we sat in silence.
I don't regret all of nights I lay in my room alone, crying over you
Or the days I felt like drowning
I only regret not telling you I loved you enough

Its been six years since I met you at that football game in high school
and I still look at you with the same
admiration and longing.
And I still find myself swimming in your gorgeous green eyes
Even after all we've been through,
I still think of you in the best of ways.

Loving you when I was sixteen was like loving the ocean
I fell in love with your mystery and your impeccable beauty
And the deeper I got, the harder it was to breathe

Have you ever felt your identity shrink?
It comes and goes
Like a thief in the night

Withering away each time
Another one removes your shirt, your pants
"Shh don't stop"
It is you in this room
Alone

He is stripping you bare
He tells you you're good with your mouth
They all do
But they never listen to you speak

And what of it?
What do you seek?
My brother,
My mentor,

Your mind is not yours,
It is poisoned,
It is ruined,
It is lost,

Stop this chasing,
Stop at once,
You know not,
what you have done.