i'm too young to be old, yet too old for this ****,
try me at a later date and we'll see what you get,
a smile and a good word, or an insult and the bird,
i'm tired of these silly games, now **** outta here girl

She was a rose, pressed into the pages
Of a book, meant to hold a place.
Instead of a page in a book,
She held a place in his heart,
Which she thought she would always have.
But eventually, bookmarks are lost,
And stories are forgotten,
And all that is left is
The smell of the binding
As the book closes for the last time.

Your voice,
Your touch,
Your smell;
it all means so much to me.

So many years I've spent,
wasted,
looking for you;
but you always make them up to me.

It's been so long since my world has spun,
now it's turned around.
The love of you is my favorite sound.

She's a little tired, a little cold
She feels a little empty in her soul
The room spins in his roundabout ways
He keeps her on edge most of the day
She's a little tired, a little sick of the ride
He thinks it's due to him not being able to hide
But that's not the case, let her make herself clear
She didn't want you there, she wanted you here

In time I saw
That there are many Autumns
Yet one and only one
is Fall