It can't be said without devotion or written between lines,
Only screamed into the night and then let go.
My God, it's overwhelming: like a tempest of the heart,
And you're the only one who's ever made it show.

Like snowfall in the morning, you descend upon my warmth,
Chilling to my core with all you've said.
So I lay without emotion, spilling out these broken words,
And the poetry starts forming in my head.

(Oh, wherefore art thou, my sweet singer,
With those lips of purest gold?
Who in all his faithful silence,
knows the stories I want told.)

And the fallacy starts falling with a force I can't defeat,
And this love burns all the oceans of my soul.
With great wonder, I sink slowly, leaving carefulness behind,
And the sweetness barrels on without control.

This love is still subconscious, laughing loudly without form,
And this quiet kills uncertainty in its tracks,
But confusion poisons slowly, like those questions left unanswered,
And I fight away desires to look back.

(Oh, wherefore art thou, my sweet poet,
With those words of saccharine?
Who in all his painful longing,
Holds a glory still unseen.)

Well, the world just keeps on moving, and I never feel a thing,
But if we're faced with truth, you know we can't pretend.
I'm only sick of lying, and the ridicule is ruthless,
Though I know this is a pain you didn't intend.

So with doubt, you leave me crying in the silence of the night,
And the shadows take their places in my heart.
But I carry on with laughter, lying swiftly with a smile,
While the deception tears these sentences apart.

(Oh, you're waiting, my sweet sorrow,
In the darkness that remains,
Praying with a reigning ferver,
For the ending of the pain.)