We are not related by blood
But our bands keep us one
It's started with a simple bumps
A shake of our hands
And together we stand

Our journey being a brother
Begun when i miss the real one
Blood is thicker than water
But you're a quencher of missing one

I thank our almighty GOD
For giving genuine person
That i could treasure forever
Oh my brother!

practice, more practice
then the next time you sing high
you'll hit the right note

My lover's a spider
And the world's toppest weaver
"Weave me a dreamcatcher"
Got one at the snap of a finger
Most of all, he's also a very good kisser

They stand with their hands in their pockets.
One man adjusts his mesh cap, an excuse.
Something tiny, precious, real bleeps furiously through cargo khakis.
He types expertly with one finger and smiles chapped lips to himself.
Leaning against the uneven coffee counter, he reaches for his latte
and walks out the door with his fashion twin and best work friend:
grown men who assimilate in substandard choices to fit-in
years past high school.

I’m crying,
I’m dying,
I’m sighing,
And I’m sobbing
My heart’s throbbing,


The girl flips her hair
It eases my despair,
But all of a sudden she leaves
And my tears are being wiped on my sleeves.

All she wants is a simple kind of love,
But is that possible, with no one she in awe of?

He smiles sweetly up at her,
Though he knows no chemistry will occur.

So they sit in silence, lives apart
Knowing their souls will not share a heart.

Practice makes perfect,
But nobody's perfect,
So why practice?