I know you just died,
But it's not over yet,
'Cause you'll live on
In all the people you have meet

In their memmories
You still exsist
In your music
Your spirit still lives

You've become immortal,
Though you were born to lose
You still managed
To make footprints with your shoes

The fact that you made an impact
On so many lives
Is the simple reason
That your memmory never dies.

I used to cry on your shoulder.
I liked doing it, in fact.

But, the truth, you say?
You want the truth?

I still do.

I still imagine that it is your shoulder I'm crying on,
And not just some cold metal.

I still imagine that it's your face that's looking down at me,
And not just the moon.

When I am spilling my tears at the balcony - now,
I wish, really wish that you'd magically be beside me.

Am I that hopeless?
Did I let you crush me?
Man.....
I was brainless.

You brought the new 'my girl' at the party last night.

I wonder if you imagined me when you had her in your arms.

I saw those twinkles in your eyes when she laughed at your jokes.

Funny enough, huh?
I saw that kind of thing too, when I laughed at them.

Have you really forgotten me, dear?
Am I already, completely, invisible?

Or am I still there, somewhere in your heart;
Somewhere that's rotting..
Somewhere dumpster-like?

Am I getting my hopes up if I say,

"I want to kiss you goodbye.

*Again."

Mouth full of metal
Pocket full of teeth (broke)
These are the trials for perfect smiles
Our loss their gain
The dentists make money again
Weekly monthly wires crossing replacing
Wondering if its even worth it
Like false guarantees: "won't be like on TV"
Not even close.

Mouth full of wires
Pocket full of stones
One stops you at the airport-

The other at the  bottom  of the bay...

Metal:
A music genre
that speaks of
The soul of withered flowers
the soul of warriors
The soul of fallen ones
The soul of phoenixes
The soul of survivors

I crave the short days.
trees with wide open arms.

I tried to stay gold, I tried.
Now I'm left with brass where the gold used to be.
I've stayed up drinking, and swallowing swarms of bees
to **** all of the butterflies he's still sending me.

This full-metal house is both
my                              home    &
my                               coffin.

Watch me bury something of
mine                            in    the
depths                              of
                         ­           Neptune.

I call those things my problems.
.