Octubre

All you can hear is my breath. In, out. In, out. It's coarse, rough, and raw.

All you can see is the roof of my car, windows curtained in trees, mixed with flashes of piercing emerald eyes. 

All you can smell is my scent, something both fresh and aromatic and naturally hormonal, plus a hint of your own sweet smell.

All you can feel are goosebumps. Goosebumps and some strange warmth, a heat coming up from inside you. It almost pushes you til you're too warm, but the crisp air and exposed skin keep you leveled. It's a mix of cool uncertainty and comfortable confidence.

In this moment, all you know is us. The sparks dancing between our lips, the electricity flowing from our fingertips. It's magical, like lightning livening up a black night, or a rogue wave entertaining the dreary sky. It's new and exciting, yet it's dangerous.

You indulge in this. This feeling might be more powerful than all the others. As my hands brush the edge of your hips, your mind is on the edge of it's seat. We might get caught; we might not. But damn, does that thrill feel good.

As you breathe out, a piece of the day's stress is lost in the clouds above. Finally, after weeks of keeping your hands to yourself, you get something else to feel, and someone else to hold. The constant pressure to be a good girl is released with every continual kiss.

All I can feel is pleasure. Everything else has melted away, leaving the core of desire wrapped up in the back of my car.

All I can smell is something flowery and intoxicating, inviting me to your being.

All I can see are my hands wrapped up in your hair, massaging your neck and back. Your eyes flash open with every new touch, and close to savor the feeling.

All I can hear are raspy, unmeasured gasps as my lips slide down your neck. 

All I know is you wanting me, and me wanting you.

July 24

You know when I feel the most inspired?

It’s not when I wake up, and know that I have the whole day in front of me. Nor is it seconds later when the sun first hits my eyes. It’s not the moment I first step in the shower, or the first bite of food. It’s not the first word I speak or friend I see.

It’s late at night, when the entirety of the day is put into perspective and unchangeable. I feel the most inspired when I lie back, my eyes drifting from the dark of my bedroom to the depths of the night sky, when I see the ounces of light poking through. This is the time where my only earthly comforts are my blankets and the red glow of the alarm clock. Then, I become alive. When all I need is to something so basic, so primitive, so fundamentally human as sleep, I realize what I really want. It’s not to close my heavy eyes and to drift off into unconsciousness; what I want is so much more. My clock stands upright to remind me of the logical parameters that dictate my life, and the window remains open connect my eyes to the stars. The stars, which, spending their entire lifespan waiting for this moment, remind that I am capable of much more than simply falling asleep.

June 9

Title: Cuts

Today you asked me if i was doing alright, and I kind of suspected you knew why I might not have been. As you may recall, Kennedy and I were dating for a while, but as of one month and one day ago, we're not. Which has sucked. I still can't see exactly why she broke up with me, but ever since the week of prom, she'd been acting different. You've probably heard or deduced that shes gone through some stuff similar to Abby or Alison, so I figured whatever was troubling her would just blow over and she'd be back to her normal self soon enough. Wrong. Let me first explain normal her and non normal her. Normal her was the one I first fell for, the one who loved to cuddle and talk one on one and be alone with me. Non normal her wanted none of that. In the last three weeks of our relationship, she didn't want to hug, or kiss, or hold hands, or cuddle or anything. So we didn't, which of course was difficult for me, as I've found my self to be a big fan of such activities, but i preserved onward nonetheless. So then one Thursday, about an hour before we played vs catholic central, she texts me and asks if she and Ellie bratt (a good friend if hers at the time who days earlier broke up with her boyfriend of many months) could come over after the game. She had been acting pretty distant before that, so I knew if she wanted to come over with backup it wasn't going to be good. I called her bluff as I sat there with the team watching jv, and she told me she was going to. Cut #1. I asked where this was coming from, and she told me shed been thinking about it for a while, which I figured might have been the case, but wishfully thought otherwise. Cut #2. After begging and begging for her to change her mind or at least let me talk to her in person, she just told me we were done. No coming to my house, no phone call. Nothing. Just her sitting at home and me sitting on the bleachers bewildered. Cut #3. I kind of figured it might have gotten to that point at some point, but to have her say that right before a game where all my focus needed to be on the field wasn't good planning for her. I ended  up playing alright, but my mind was absent the entire time. I was so in shock and tired that night that I didn't know what to feel, so I unintentionally felt nothing. The next night, however, it really hit me. I remember sitting on a chair in my living room, and the song Gracious by Ben Howard came on. The chorus of the song goes something like 'Gracious goes the ghost of you, and I will never forget the plans and the silhouettes we drew here' then goes on to say 'You said ours were the lighthouse towers, the sun upon that place. Darling I'll grow weary, happy still, with just the memory of your face.' The first of those two lines really made Cut #4 because in all honesty, I was still in love with her. It hadn't really sunk in yet that she didn't want to be mine anymore, which aligned the 'gracious goes the ghost of you' part. Hearing that summed up what I felt better than I could even begin to explain, and Cut #4 began to bleed right then because I just started bawling. It was during tulip time that she split us up, and having days off and nice weather felt like summer. She was talking about all the things she wanted to do with me this summer, so hearing the part about never forgetting the plans hit hard, and the vivid personification of a silhouette made it feel like he was my subconscious talking. The line about you said ours were the light house towers also fit because of her adoration for the beach and our coincidental lighthouse here in town. Darling I'll grow weary happy still with just the memory of your face was the epitome of how I felt in the weeks leading up to our break up, remembering how she was in contrast to how she was later. 

That's a long paragraph, and a lot about one topic. Have a break, and listen to that song. I tried to find the video that was really good, but it's eluding me. 

I'm not done on that topic though. Sorry if you thought I was done. My sincere apologies. Cut #5 came after our next game, when my best bud Trebor's girlfriend, who'd become close with Kennedy, told me that as she and Kennedy watched Trebor and I play, Kennedy said shed been thinking more about another guy for the last portion of our relationship than about me. That shit stung. It made me angry. I felt like shed cheated on me, which I guess in her mind she had. It also justified her breaking up with me a little bit, which was kind of nice, but I guess I lost the 'how could she be so heartless and do such a thing with no cause' feeling that gained me so much pity. She and that other guy are now happily dating, I'd assume, or at least in some sort of relationship, because I saw them together a lot the last week of school. She only waited a week after we split to dive in head first with him, which has been widely regarded as a classless, low, scumbaggish, all around bitchy move. Seeing that made it easier to watch her go, because at least she was happy with him, and it gave leaving me cause, but seeing the girl I'd invested everything in for the last five months with a guy who I'd always thought was just a friend burned. All I can do now is be glad she's not mentally cheating on me and say good riddance, as difficult as that can be. 

Still not done. Just more enter key happy. Cut #6 came just last Friday, when Abby,  katelyn and I were hanging out. The subject of Kennedy and I came up again, as it often does in late night conversation, and they told me that on her 16th birthday, may 1, after she, her family and I went to wild chef, and after her little get together with some friends and I, she, Alison and Devi got wasted in her basement. This was news to me. She and I had smoked weed once together (shh), but she knew I wanted to be done with that kind of stuff, because of the tough standards of the lacrosse team, and how Nolan, my closest confidant and best friend, wanted me not to, and she told me she wanted to be done, also. To be honest, had she just told me the day after or the night of, I wouldn't have been too mad, and as I try to be gracious and flexible, and i mean it was her birthday, even if it was technically five years too early. Cut #6 hurt the most, I think. There was no real reason for not telling me, aside from maybe being scared I'd get mad, but with all the shit shed put me through before that, she should have known that wouldn't have bothered me. That means the only reason she could have kept it from me was simply because she wanted to hide something from me. That's why it hurt so much. It made me and still makes me angry. All that time (I guess only a week) shed been hiding that from me. That's not how a relationship is supposed to go. Sure, that's given me even more reason to be okay with her gone, but it just frustrates me. No, I wouldn't have been mad, and she knew that. And if she hid something so mundane from me, keeping in mind her secret admiration of someone else while we were dating, who knows what else she hid from me, and why. I like to think those two are the only two things she hid from me, because knowing she never quite gave me the full picture when we were dating, there could have been countless other things. I don't think there were, honestly, because despite those two instances, she usually kept or tried to keep to the straight and narrow. I also never pried too much about what she didn't share, because with all the things shed gone through and how sensitive some of those subjects were, I wanted to play it safe. 

Another note in this story: she never gave me the full spectrum of her emotions or thoughts, and as I just mentioned, I was okay with that. All girls do that, I've come to know, so I just rolled with the continual punches. I was never like that though. I was transparent. I let it all out to her. Every hope, dream, hate, love and fear I had she knew. She was my best friend. Was it smart to give that much to her? I don't know. Maybe not. Maybe, though, because if you're going to do something, do it well. I think of all my past relationships with females, this one I did the best on. I studied her. I observed her. I learned of her. Then I put it all into practice by making her the happiest girl on the goddamn planet. I thought. People commented on it, too, the way I treated her. She was more or less treated like a princess at home, and I made sure that didn't change with me. In retrospect, any girl who receives the full Isaac treatment better thank her lucky stars. That's one thing no one will ever be able to take from me: how much I gave to her. That's Cut #7, I guess, because she was my best friend for a long time, and I gave her so much, just to have her strip it all away. Oh well.

'Oh well.' is the only attitude I can have. If I look past all she did to me, ill just remain hung up on her. If let myself get angry, I'm caring too much and letting those cuts stay open. Neither are my aim.

I'm getting past her. Slowly. Slowly but surely. It took a very uncomfortable conversation with someone who loathes her trying to rip every good idea of her out of my head to make me decide what I was and wasn't going to defend about her. It helped me out a ton, though, because i gained perspective on the bad things shed done, which for a month I'd repressed and blocked out, just so my idea of her remained pure in my mind. I don't know why I wanted to keep her so perfect in my mind for so long, or why I looked past her indecencies even as we dated. Maybe because id always seen her as a good person, or because I knew she wasn't but she would be if i  kept her that way in my mind. 

Maybe it was because I loved her. 

I remember the first time she told me she loved me. It was over the phone, 10:20 pm on April 20. I didn't know what to say. I knew I didn't love her back, and i didn't want to lie to her. I said nothing. I couldn't say anything. There are few things more powerful than the first time someone tells you they love you, and I knew no matter what i said it would pale in comparison, in lieu of saying it back, which I wasn't going to do. I also remember the first time I told her I loved her. We'd spent an evening together, and I recall sitting on the boardwalk at kollen park with her, watching her eat her McDonald's. I thought to myself, 'why yes. I do love you.' we existed in that moment so perfectly, so calmly, so together, that I didn't know what to do with myself. Of course, I couldn't tell her right there, because she would have wanted me to wait till she wasn't eating, and she would have wanted to kiss me, and big macs are not my favorite flavor. I told her when I dropped her off a few minutes later, as she was getting out of the car.

I think we only told each other we loved a few times, and we made sure it was in person. We couldn't demean it so much as to say it over text. We only verbalized it a handful of times, but we both knew the intent was always there, so saying it wasn't always necessary. That's why I've been able to write all this, and why I tried to keep her so innocent and perfect in my mind. Because I loved her. That's why it's been so hard for me to just abandon ship like she did, because I was the co-captain of the ship. Seeing all the things she did to cut me make me question if she ever really did love me, but a part of me wants to believe she did. A part of more knows she did, or has convinced itself so, because if not it was all a waste. And I can't bear to think that. Maybe that's Cut #8. The uncertainty of if she loved me. That one is up for debate, though, and I don't know if any of us know, so I'll hope she did and not consider it a cut.

These seven cuts are healing. 

May 20

I thought about her sky blue eyes, and how any color made them jump out. I thought about the look she always gave me, how I knew it was flirtatious the first time I saw it, and how I got used to it, but how each time it made me feel like she was interested. I thought about lying on my back, and her lying in between my legs. I thought about running my hands down her sides, and about her ass, digging my hands in. I thought about how she'd inhale sharply at that point, like all girls do, and how she'd grab my shirt a little bit tighter.

I thought about lust.
I thought about love.

I thought about becoming one with another person.
And I thought about becoming one with myself.

These thoughts scared me.

May 19

I think about all the bad that's happened to me, and I can't help but see little pieces of good scattered here and there. Unfortunately, they're just little pieces of good. There was one big piece, or maybe even a few, but people like to twist good things into bad things, and bad things begin to seem like they're okay. Shit's twisted, man.

May 14

Motivation is hard to come by these days. Persistent rain, constant schoolwork and no girlfriend to talk to or see all point me towards the snug comfort of my bed. Keep in mind that comfort is the enemy of achievement.

But when I'm a month from the end of school, is attempting to achieve anything worth the effort? I'll ponder this as I lie in bed.

May 7

Sometimes you just gotta write about it. Sometimes that's a poem, or an essay, or a story where you weave your problems into the characters, and hope they can find a way out. Sometimes it's a letter, that you don't write a "dear ___" or a "sincerely, ___" on, because you have no intention of ever sending it. If you're writing a letter to no one, it's because someone needs to hear, and that someone might be a different part of yourself.

Maybe when we write, we're giving lines to the one character in our story we can control, so that maybe they can find a way out.

April 25

Last night I watched
As the words tumbled down
From your hesitant lips
Oh, what a sound

They danced and they dropped
Not to the floor
But to my ready ears
A sound for the sore

They whispered
Quietly
Moving things
Inside of me

g-f#-e-d-b-b
g-f#-e-b
g-f#-e-d-b-b
g-f#-e-d

fifths on c, c+b, a, g

g-g-a-b-a-g-e-e
g-g-a-b-g-d+g
g-g-a-b-a-g-e-e
g-a-b-d

fifths on c, c+b, a, g

March 28

It's been a while since we've kissed. Not that we haven't been together and in a situation where we could, but just that it hasn't been there. Is that on me? I sure hope not. Is it on her? I think it might be. But if it's something she's feeling, why does she feel it? Is it a lack of affection? Is it a constant bad mood? Have I done something she won't tell me? Lord knows I mess up a time or ten but she's usually quick enough to point it out. Why girls like to hold something against boys without telling them is beyond me. It isn't productive for the relationship at all. All it does is create inner pain and resentment for her, and oblivious bliss for him, which isn't helpful. Bitches, man.

Things are looking up, though. I hope.

March 11, 10:2

I remember the first time she told me she loved me. It was over the phone. She was reading me a letter she wrote to me. I didn't say I loved her back because I didn't know if I did. She told me later my silent reply hurt her. If I was there with her in person, I'd have kissed her, or hugged her, or held her hand or made eye contact with her or something. But telephones are for talking, and I didn't know what to say.

So I did my best to console her, which isn't easy for someone who can't find any decent word to say and has to let her hang up on me in silence. I'd have consoled her with a hug, or a kiss, or a hand wrapped around hers, but she was not there. She was in her house, and I was in mine. And that was painful for me to hear.

February 21

"...how does that work?"

"I have no idea, Sven."

pause

"how have you been lately?"

pause

"have you ever felt like something is... just... wrong when you're not with her?"

"what do you mean?"

"I just... when we're apart I don't feel... whole. or complete or, myself."

February 11

I hate not being able to help her. I hate when she hides things, and when things that she shouldn't worry about bother her. I love how much she cares for people, but I hate how little she can let go of.

Love and hate are strong words,

but I'm getting closer to loving her every day.

February 4

from a lover


To hold you in my arms is to wake to the sun,
for though it happens time and time again,
the delight reminds me of something supernatural,
something only He could bring to us.

To see you is to see the moon,
blazing white in the indigo sky,
a natural wonder adored by many,
experienced by few.


to a lover

January 30

....that's just it though: we're never gonna fix ourselves. Yes, medicine, therapy, and good support help you to get back to where you should be, but that doesn't mean things are gonna be perfect. You know that of course, but I don't think you grasp the concept of what it means to 'better yourself.' You can focus on your problems, and focus just on working on them, blocking everything else out, but the more you focus on something bad, the bigger it seems. We're all messed up, yes, but fixing yourself isn't really something you can do, in my opinion. Yes, you can take down one problem after another and get all your shit in a line, but just because you've dealt with everything doesn't mean you can make yourself whole again.

And yes, I know that doesn't mean you don't need to worry about any of your shortcomings and jump into whatever comes your way, but it doesn't mean you need to stop something good to focus on something bad. Food for thought.

January 28

"Temptation is a mirror to our greatest desires."

Isaac Nelson, 2014

What we desire most appeals to us the most: A candy bar in the check out lane, the prospect of a day with no school, the girl we once loved talking of being alone with us. Some things, like candy, have very little effect. Other things, like a snow day, have the potential to ruin a lesson plan, but at the beginning of the semester, few teachers care. The things that have the greatest possibility for destruction are the ones that stay on our minds far past the time when we first thought of them. Things like taking her up on her offer to 'go to a friend's house' are the ones that can destroy everything we worked so hard for. Temptation is rarely seen as a good trait that a person or object can possess, and temptation gains its reputation from times like this. 

Eve was tempted and ate the apple. But what if her name is not Eve, and the apple is just an apple?

January 23

I'd write about how angry, or sad, or happy, or emotional I am, but for the first time in a while, I feel nothing. Two nights ago I felt numb, but now, I don't even feel that. It's a strange feeling, feeling nothing. You expect it to be different, but you're just standing there, doing the dishes, and nothing seems different. You're not happy about tomorrow, nor sad about yesterday, but indifferent about everything. The looming, daunting semester simply exists. The prospect of a great weekend no longer excites you, nor does any combination of people or places. It's neither black nor white, just grey. No hills, no valleys. Life just is sometimes, and sometimes being is all you can do.

January 20

EXT. - NIGHT
Isaac sits alone in his car. We pass a speed limit sign, showing thirty miles per hour. Close up on the speedometer: 68, 69, 70 mph. Cut to:

Isaac gets out of his car, slams the door, and locks it as he walks away. Follow cam: he swings wide the door, and slams it behind him.

INT. - NIGHT
Follow cam: He rapidly kicks off his shoes, strangles a hook with his jacket and nearly runs into the hall.

Flashback:
Isaac sits alone in his car, beginning to shake. The houselights illuminate a tear forming in both eyes, then departing from one.

Present:
Isaac is marching down the hall.
DAD
How was it?

ISAAC
Bad.

Angle on: Isaac enters the bathroom, where he fumbles with his toothpaste and toothbrush.

DAD
Did something happen?

New angle:
ISAAC (through a clenched jaw)
Nothing noteworthy. It's all for the better of everyone. Better for Kennedy, better for Isaac, better for the group.

Isaac begins to brush, but moments later spits out the contents of his mouth in disgust. He grabs a cup and fills it with water, downs it rapidly and stomps out.

Follow cam: Isaac storms up the stairs.

Angle on: We see his father, sitting in the glow of a television screen. His look depicts concern and surprise.

Flashback:
From his back seat: his car flies through a curved section of road, passing multiple other vehicles.

Present:
Follow cam: Isaac reaches the top of the stairs. Quick left as he opens the door, and slams it.

Flashback:
Isaac sits alone in his car, beginning to shake. The houselights illuminate a tear forming in both eyes, then departing from one.

Present:
Isaac slams his phone and keys onto his desk, and throws himself onto the bed. He bear hugs a pillow, but begins punching the mattress next to him.

Flashback:
Through the window we watch as he stands in the foyer of the same house. A girl, much shorter than he, in a maroon sweater and a white scarf stares up at him. She says something to him, from which she gets no response. Again, she says it, and he says one word. He wraps his arms around her shoulders, and slowly his head falls to rest on her own. The same shaking we saw from him in the car begins. She looks up in with dismay. He turns to exit the house.

Present:
His punches become staggered and weak.
Dolly in: we hear him begin to cry again, further burying his head in the pillow.

Flashback:
Isaac, the girl in the sweater, another girl and another boy sit in a basement. A long pause is broken.

GIRL IN SWEATER:
So what do you think?

ISAAC:
I can't stop you.

He gets up and walks towards the upward leading stairs.

The two girls whisper angrily for a moment, then the second points to the one in the sweater, the points to the stairs. The first girl reluctantly gets up and follows Isaac up the stairs.

Present:

January 17

There are people who are wronged, and realize that the situation was a mistake and forgive those who trespass.

Then there's this bitch who thinks that her daughter inviting me into her house (aka taking the screen off the window and unlocking it) is breaking and entering and that I'm going to be prosecuted for statutory rape when her daughter does something for me willingly. 

Some people man, some people.

January 14

Of course, things were going okay for far too long, and a disaster always succeeds a good time.

But holy fucking shit some people.

I try to not ask for much, and sometimes I do, but I know that I sometimes give a lot in return. Be on time, if you're gonna bail, at least don't do it the day of, and if you're gonna say you're gonna be sober, DON'T GO AND FUCKING SMOKE WEED WITH GOD KNOWS WHO.

Some people just need to help themselves, and Isaac doesn't like being the asshole who has to tell them that. He likes helping people. He likes helping himself. He likes seeing progress. He hates being stagnant. Staying the same at the top is good, continual progression is fine if it's slow, and there is a case to be argued for staying at the bottom, but if you say you're going to try to get better and give us a speech about how you want an upright, nice guy like the guys in Living Hope, and two nights later tell two of your good friends that you sucked his dick, not once, but two times, while you're intoxicated, I have no respect for you.

Some people, man, some people.

January 9, early

When she asked us to write about questions, his name came to mind
See a bullet went right through him, and there he sat, and there he died.
His wife sat next to him, his son behind,
when that twisted, sick son of a bitch needed to get high
so he grabbed Ron's checkbook and pulled the trigger, just one time,
before turning around, as the light drained from Ron's eyes

Of all the things I've asked,
I've yet to find an answer
Why do I have both grandmas
and only one grandpa?

January 8

Kennedy. We're going to work out. Don't worry about that. See relationships are measured in part by physical connection and how far that goes, and in part by how your affection grows and in part by how you learn to work together both as lovers and friends, as human bodies and compromise ridden souls seeing no fight, no peace, only agreement after agreement to the end. See it took me a long time to know this, as all my relationships started out physically and simply created friendship by common interest from that but no i'm learning: you kiss her when you're able to kiss her, not when your testosterone filled veins lunge forward and scream go, or when her beautiful physique can no longer say no, but when the emotional ties have been knotted and when the play dates have been dotted with restraint because you know she is worth more than wasting your first kiss together on a good lyric or a happy movie, then. then you know to kiss her.

you're my dream man
you're a dream, girl
taking my hand daily,
showing me a different world
taking my thoughts and caging them in
cause i was a wild animal on a killing spree
til you let open season begin
it was all too easy
to take that lovely knife
and to sink it slowly
between the ribs of your unsuspecting, willing life
but it was too easy
so simple, nothing there to stop me
till i realized that brake exists
i just need to get him out of me


"such strong words, if rendered empty, leave you only one option: run." ~some wise guy i just made up and spoke for.

January 6

So I'm sitting here, eating my sour cream and onion Sun Chips, listening to every song on that sad song list, when I remember (for the umpteenth time) that I'm going to see her tomorrow. I know I'm going to have to go through a long night of breathing strictly from my mouth, listening to my sister bitch out my mom, being hungry, needing to go to the bathroom, and a morning of sitting, waiting and wishing, but tomorrow, just a matter of hours from now, I get to see her. 

Her, the one that I hated everything about, and that I should have no interest in. Her, the one who is a little bit different from all the other ones, whose friends have all loved and hated me. Her, the one I realize I can't keep my eyes off. Her. 

Tomorrow isn't so far off

January 5

"Sometimes you break your arm, and you try holding it together to help it heal, and other times you put it in a splint or a sling to aid the process. This time, I'm working on putting a cast around it so it will heal properly and nothing else can hurt it."

~Isaac, on his never ending relationship with some girl.

"We're not broken, just bent, and we can learn to love again." For how much I despise that song, it does hold a certain amount of truth. Most people see bent as not perfect and therefore not right, whereas the more experienced ones of us see bent as simply different and unique, and thus more lovable. The majority of those who look down upon the bent have never been touched, played with, scratched or even looked at properly in their love life to realize that from brokenness comes new bonds, and these new bonds are like scar tissue: stronger than what came before, albeit not as pretty.

While unblemished human muscle grows in a basket weave pattern, scar tissue grows back all in one direction. This is true of the human heart, head and spirit. You can't replicate innocence or your original feelings for someone if you've lost it or been hurt by them. There are hundreds of different ways to cope, and depending on how bad the 'injury,' you might be able to get back to how you originally were, like a cut on your arm leaving a small scar. But sometimes, you emotionally invest yourself in someone else and when that goes to shit the only way you can rebuild is by doing what you did before, replicating that time before your innocence was lost and before you had bad relations with that person: You need to love someone else to help that scar tissue heal. You need a cast to help your broken arm, because just letting it be might not heal properly.


------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hello there old angel,
tell me how has this hell been?
I hate to see our thoughts conflicting
because of how some things came to end
And I hate to see you hate yourself,
because I know you can not love
anyone but my heart
and that bridge went up in dust

Hello there old angel,
tell me how has this hell been?
Cause I've seen you hellbent on getting out
Without relying on earthly ends
And your friends have disappeared
Or were not friends at all
And I'm trying to help, God knows I am
Cause acting like our Savior is His greatest call

Hello there old angel,
tell me how has this hell been?
I'd like to put on my shiny wings
And we can listen to the chorus that never ends
I'd love to show you that city
stadia wide and miles high
of gold encrusted pearls and jewels
where we can together hide


but oh god oh god let me show you