My veins hold black ink and my heart has inkwells
Hold my heart more often than my hand
I will run through the forest of the night to you, burning brighter towards your heartI've got the world in my arms tonight
Your heart is my methadone
I of myself am the architect, I am of my own design for I am the poet, the lover, the madman, the dreamer, and the philosopher
0 comments:
Post a Comment