When I was younger I was certain
That I'd be fine without a queen
Just a king inside his castle
With an ocean in between
Now all I do is sit
And count the miles from you to me
Are we human because we gaze at the stars,
or do we gaze at them because we are human?
When he shall die,
Take him and cut him out in little stars,
And he will make the face of heaven so fine
That all the world will be in love with night
And pay no worship to the garish sun
Dwell on the beauty of life. Watch the stars, and see yourself running with them
YOU KNOW THAT I'M PROUD AND I CAN'T GET THE WORDS OUT.
Format ©
dontsellyourselfshort
I STILL SEE YOUR
BRIGHT EYES AND IT ALL COMES DOWN TO
YOU.
Format ©
dontsellyourselfshort
Southwest
Gothic
weather vanes spinning wildly even though
there's no wind
sunsets bathing everything in saturated light before all the color disappears
old homesteads leaning to one side
everything covered in cobwebs
walking in the desert alone
but you're not alone
someone on the crest is crawling with you
waking up to the sound of a complete downpour but looking outside and it hasn't rained even a drop
your walls have eyes
and they've seen
sunsets bathing everything in saturated light before all the color disappears
old homesteads leaning to one side
everything covered in cobwebs
walking in the desert alone
but you're not alone
someone on the crest is crawling with you
waking up to the sound of a complete downpour but looking outside and it hasn't rained even a drop
your walls have eyes
and they've seen
Midwest
Gothic
abandon farms
silos that are slowly turning back into the earth
street lights that flicker as you pass them
empty streets in the middle of the night, but you still hear footsteps behind you
someone looking at you from a curtained window, then you blink and they’re gone
storm sirens at 2 AM
an old radio carackling on, even though no one touched it
the endless fields know your fears
silos that are slowly turning back into the earth
street lights that flicker as you pass them
empty streets in the middle of the night, but you still hear footsteps behind you
someone looking at you from a curtained window, then you blink and they’re gone
storm sirens at 2 AM
an old radio carackling on, even though no one touched it
the endless fields know your fears
East Coast
Gothic
foggy piers
something large and unknown washing up onto the shore
the end of the beach disappearing into the storm
shade of the forest, leaving patterned shadows and tricking your eyes
overgrown tombstones
old houses painted black, shuttered windows
an outbuilding in the middle of the woods, the forest has moved inside
you know someone lives there
figures between the trees, whispering
something large and unknown washing up onto the shore
the end of the beach disappearing into the storm
shade of the forest, leaving patterned shadows and tricking your eyes
overgrown tombstones
old houses painted black, shuttered windows
an outbuilding in the middle of the woods, the forest has moved inside
you know someone lives there
figures between the trees, whispering
