Take these lies in the palm of your heart,
They are all that I have, this one box,
That holds my entire life in.
I bring flames of time burn, baby, burn.
My life is on fire, bind my soul as you see fit. [bad word] the words that I have left from my mouth to silence,
Plagiarize my works of almost art,
Mimicking your timeless glance into my shorten lifelines
That circle the equator that is you.
I span the world, I scan the world for someone that you cannot replace.
Sing me a song, let me know how much you wouldn't care if I disappeared.
The box is yours if you want it.
This one's for courage, this one's for valor.
This one's discouraged by words [bad word] 
And told you how I glance at other people
With the same sultry eyes of conceit.
What gives you the right to hold the gates at a distance?
I cannot be matched by persistence nor time.
I [bad word] you more than I [bad word] me,
Deceive my blind eyes and trespass to my solemn vow.
I won't make you cry so I can make you feel better,
And I won't cry to make you feel whatever I want to make you feel.
This one's the invitation, a song for me to clear my mind,
Melting the ink to form a letter to bond we eternally.
Two folded pages of words I can't say with enough conviction
To make you see exactly what I mean.
The cello sings sad longer than my patience.
I hear it on empty streets where my heart beats.
This ghost town has skeletons that I can't see.
My retinas see transparencies, so please tell me, what's wrong?

Let me see it through your eyes with no words, just touching,
'Cause these words are as tired as the sun's predictable settings.
This one is for determination, this one is for, me.
This one has nothing to do with either of us.
And are you from another time, another place of displacement?
Where our souls travel adjacent, and I smile without pretension.
I feel the tension strain upon my hands you left with me,
Subject me to social [bad word] for your self-benefit.
I think it's probably best this way,
You and I can never be together anyway,
Any place, any time, with masked emotion and more words to decipher.
Six-line phrases of stupidity.
This rare photograph shows me as an old man, and I see myself all alone.
All these trinkets got stories I would tell you
But you listen with biased ears and no questions for me.
As my response, an empty box, wide open, and it's yours if you want it.