Your time is priceless — don’t short change yourself.
I lost precious seconds — minutes —hours — days — giving time I could not afford to give away. I hate to count those times, now that they’re buried in graves.
Going in ever increasing circles, spent stuck in a maze — spinning around — left dizzy for days. The repetitive cycle of becoming a bridge over all troubled waters, leaves you covered with footprints like ink stains — difficult to remove. In the silence, I find myself screaming into the space in my mind — ‘can you give me back my time!’
Some bridges just need to be burned down to the ground — into a pile of ash and dust — just like the bridge between the two of us.
Red, that’s the colour of my blood — that’s the colour that paints my love. What explanation is there for these foolish things? I spill my blood — whilst you sit back and sing. Two wildfires making love in a house of cards, as if we don’t know — who we are. Let it all fall down, let nobody win — we wave loneliness goodbye, let it whistle on the wind.
Sometimes, we waste hope on hopeless things — like watching the phone hoping it rings — like a permanent trade of Winter for Spring — like a wedding day after the summer fling — we waste hope — on hopeless things.
When your energy is running low — pass the mic, let it go.
I had a fuck to give, so I gave it. Now, I can’t shine my light there anymore. It’s still burning bright, but it’s turned down low. Sure, I can function on auto pilot, but that is never really enough to live well — be better — add value.
It’s not time that will heal, it’s focused energy.
I want to rock the boat — see what sinks — watch what floats.
I take me to the river, let the water baptise my soul. When I find my thoughts stagnant — when I need room to grow. When I have no clue, wondering — what is a girl to do? Well, that is the moment to become brand new.
So, here I go — rolling on the river.