I'm weary of kisses in dark corners

and embraces under the veil of the distilled

Kiss me now,

In the newly-fallen snow.

Hold me now,

While sweet daylight remains.

I like boys that like their mothers,

and I have a thing for brothers,

but they always wait 'til we're under the covers

to say I'm sure glad we're not lovers

thanks to some good people, i've listened to this album a lot

"It's hard to say the meaning of this song.

An ambulance can only go so fast.

It's easy to get buried in the past

when you try to make a good thing last."

Sometimes I like to listen to lonely words and quiet beats that remind me of snow. I like extra terrestrials but can't stop thinking that they're silly. On certain days, I wish that I was Winona Ryder; but on others, I'm glad to be myself. I like the people that I know, but would you be my friend as well?

At last! I've found you!

Ventures across oceans of time

And seas of unrelenting destiny

have led me to you, oh you,

What a wretched and wondrous creature!

And I shall find you again,

In the next life that claims our souls.

"He stepped down, trying not to look long at her, as if she were the sun, yet he saw her, like the sun, even without looking."

Wilted

One spring day, a boy no more than four wandered through the orchard that sat across from his home. He spread his arms and ran around in a world of make believe. It was in this dream state that he stumbled upon a field of breath-taking daisies. As he took in their beauty, he noticed a small flower sprouting from the ground at the edge of the field.

The flower looked into his boyish blue eyes and smiled. "Pick me, choose me, love me," she said in a voice that reminded him of the summer.

He looked the flower up and down and whispered, "I just can't."

The flower whimpered and he quickly comforted her with tales of his adventures and conquests in his world of make believe. As the sun began to set, he heard a far away voice calling for him to return. He kissed one of her petals and ran back home only to dream of the field of daisies.

From then on, every day after his mother had excused him from lunchtime, the boy would dash back into his world of make believe to talk to the simple flower that became so dear to him. She listened politely and always hoped that at the end of the day he would love her enough to pick her out of the ground and take her home. But no such day came.

When the boy had grown into a man who didn't make believe any longer, he returned to the field of daisies and began to notice the other flowers that surrounded her. He picked a few of them here and there and brought them back to his childhood home. She wilted and weeped.

As the man's visits became less frequent, another boy began to visit the orchard that housed the field of daisies. His eye fell on the weeping flower and he scooped her in his arms and whispered sweet nothings to her. Her petals lifted and her weeping ceased. She began to love the boy more than her dear friend. But as the sun began to set and the boy's mother's calls reached his ears, he dropped the sweet flower and left her on the cold ground.

The next morning, as dew kissed the petals of each bright daisy, the flower felt the warm embrace of the man whom she used to love. He gently placed her back in her spot and gently undid the boy's awful doing. She looked into his eyes as she had done the first day that they had met and whispered, "Why, you love me the most."

The man smiled the same smile that he had had as a boy and kissed her petals once more.