If they could only see..
when you're in love, it's easy to write about that, and it's difficult to write about being lonely. when you're lonely, it's easy to write about that, and very difficult to write about being in love. it's when you can write about something other than those two subjects that you can call yourself a writer.
the candle's burned down, it's time for you to go. the piano player has stopped playing, it's time for me to go. the dance floor is empty, save a single wilted rose. and to what suite we will disappear, only the night knows. the tables are all cleared, but yet your head lies upon my shoulder. still caught inside of the slowest dance, both of our last exhales are holding. the final test of weakest will, whether we part ways or remain still. a million words we'll never speak, as the lights fade out to sleep.
the candle's burned down, it's time for you to go. the piano player has stopped playing, it's time for me to go. the dance floor is empty, save a single wilted rose. and to what suite we will disappear, only the night knows. the tables are all cleared, but yet your head lies upon my shoulder. still caught inside of the slowest dance, both of our last exhales are holding. the final test of weakest will, whether we part ways or remain still. a million words we'll never speak, as the lights fade out to sleep.