Storybook endings never appear. They're just 'someone's' way of leading us here.

I love home. I'll stay up there for days on end, I won't even go down the driveway to look for the mail.

Death is there to keep us honest and constantly remind us we are free.

Between the worlds of men and make believe I can be found.

We drank a toast to innocence, we drank a toast to now. And tried to reach beyond the emptiness, but neither one knew how.

As we hang beneath the heavens, and we hover over hell, our hearts become the instruments we learn to play so well.

Love like a phantoms lights but hold in the heart, it builds like the empty smile adorning a statue with sightless eyes.