I'm a falling star that has shattered all dreams
of ever understanding love's point of view.
A rose without a standing stem no grounding
nor foundation to keep me leveled.

Many wicked nights I have walked lonely dark streets
preying upon a dream wishing once again too have you in my palm.
A tree of memories painted on my room walls,
plastic thoughts of us just too much sadness to keep recycling.

Love is just a metaphor that breaks down into a illness
I heard from the reflection in the broken restroom glass.
Who are you to tell me such a thing?
Love is a metaphysical mind set and, 
I have built a Castle of Paradoxic thoughts.

What a dreadful place; there were blood stained floors,
rooms with no doors, chains bolted to walls.
I could vision the many hearts that have suffered countless nights,
I can hear my voice cry for hope; love has died here for decades. 

As I reminisce about that lonely place inside of me,
I cry until my eyes are as dry as a Texas summer.
Love is my illness, she's the reason why my pores cry
blood and my heart suffer from emptiness.

Too much distance to travel back,
she has moved on
I will find her once again
and then I will endure all lashes.