They think thee mad? I'll show thou mad, my lord.
There's no one to mourn for a life that love stole.
To her you're just a play thing; she'll make you out to be a king, then she'll set fire to your throne.
And everything I thought I knew - you made me trade it all for you...but, frankly, you're not worth it.
How envious I am that the sun may kiss your porcelain skin and forever change how the world sees you.
But when you kiss me there's a spark, and I can't remember I'm only food to be consumed like an apple and not loved like a woman.
Following dark winter's strife, a warm air rises, teemed with life. Birth, rebirth, as the waiting die. Old love, new love sprouts wings to fly.
I mostly hope you think I miss you and in the end you hope you'll get me, but that's fantasy, untrue as you, and bitter as the hope you left me.
It's better to have loved and lost than never love at all - I doubt that sorry statement every time I fall.
But, in the end, a kiss is just a kiss; I have no time for love, or seasoned lips.