He feels like Carolina,
Looks like California,
Shines like those city lights in Philly.
He's wild as Wyoming,
With eyes like the Montana sky.
He's exotic like Hawaii,
Even though he's from Detroit.
He feels like Carolina.
He feels just like home.

The curse of this town is all in my mouth. I'm drowning in its misery. This whole place is going south, and getting so **** empty. My fancy friends with their fancy cars, take their money and they go so far. They're all too good for me, you see, I'm just a city kid with no money. I hate this town its so dressed up and all my friends don't give a ****. One day they'll realize that their money and their cars, won't get them all too far. Cause their common sense got lost, somewhere in the gloss and glitz and gleam and glamour. So now money's all that matters.

And out of all the people I’ve ever met
No one can make me feel
Quite as safe
And as insecure
As important
And as replaceable
As wanted and as unnecessary
As you can
With just a single look
You’re iridescent
And compared to you
No one shines quite as bright

And as we sat by the road
Staring at the country sky
We spoke of the beauty of the stars
Of the lives they hold
And the stories they told
And when you turned to me
You told me we were just like the stars
Because people stare at our beauty
But in reality
We’re already dead

A rose by any other name,
Means nothing at all.
For by any other name,
A rose, is a flower, is a ****.

Love gained
Love lost
Love is lost again
Hearts pained
Hearts taught
Not to love again
Tears fall
Pictures burn
Love is lost again
Come all
Who did learn
Not to love again
Search high
Search low
Love is lost again
Now I
Do know
Not to love again
Risk all
Or risk none
Love is lost
Hate has won
For empty hearts
Rule this life
Our empty hearts
So full of strife
Our hearts are locked
Our keys are lost
Till someone looks
Love is lost
So lovers that we are
Search high and low
We search near and far
To bring love back home
Dreamers dream
While lovers cry
Love is lost
And so am I

Our story begins with a girl. She was beautiful, but not in the way you might expect. Her hair did not drip with gold; her eyes were not the color of the summer sky. Her smile was crooked and broken, and the bags under her eyes, omnipresent. Her hair did not shine, nor did her eyes, and her laugh was tired, as was her smile. And yet, she was beautiful. She was beautiful in the way the ocean kisses the shore, in the way poetic words flow from broken hearts. Mostly she was beautiful because she refused to taste defeat, even when it was all there was to eat. Her name was Joy, though she never felt any.