Decidedly I've found that's life is his and hers
Both lifeless for the taking, apparitions with no solid
foundation you rocked me until I crumbled, I rolled you,
sacked you, Queen of the King's last fumble
Proud of our victories, but ashamed of their meaning...you
ask is this whatchu call love?
Aimlessly badgering the other with hopes of reconciliation so
spicy your eyes water
Who is he to you, why is she still texting after all this
time....things we do turn blind hearts to cobbled stone
Heavy like burdens, gasping large gulps of sanity as you bob
about, thrown asunder by a chaotic storm brewed by the
chronic mistreatment of the one you trust.....as you rise you
think...is this whatchu call love....being loved...loving
you..
To know that of is distinct, but to feel that of it is
divine, and with that knowledge we lead to our doom
You screwing me, me fucking you
You say my eyes gotdamn you everytime, while for me it's the
truth behind your clear browns that constantly forsakes
me...being told by outsiders to look with in and agree to
disagree
As we slackjaw and our images twinkle with dumbfound disgust
as they regale us with the tales of how the beat their
union's ass we ask with a pure yet delicate honesty...is that
whatchu call love?
