gossip's as good as gospel in this town
You can save face but you wont ever save your soul
And thats a fact

Sign away all my half-aware lies.

A realization is nothing more than sand. So good luck my fellow sea shore, enjoy this time on land?Comfort of the water, pray it keeps you clean. A salty empty nothingness awoke but just a dream.

The sliver, yes, it held a toast demaded you be there. Come my friend we'll laugh and roast all those dreams we had or shared. As the spit begins its spin Time we'll have to bare our sins far from furrowed land.With this toast a hope is borne: we'll gain each others hand, but without we'll walkabout sunk hopeless in the sand.

Flame, oh, Flame. the purist came to touch his hand and tame.
Flame, oh, Flame. the purest name to forever remain the same.

Nothing's Shore to be caught, and adorned with all that can be lashed, by decision, careful percision, to where they lay the hand. The last of Nothing will meet with Time in some darkened black backdoor. A sordid affair, attained to regain Life for those of Fear and Fair. Nothing will reunify our lost and living Lords, Then a gasp, His last laughing laugh: The Shore, The Sand; reborn

so hurry up and run to the one that you love
and blind him with your kindness
and he'll make war, oh war, on who you were before
and claim all that has spoiled in your heart.