H-Salexander

Look at me, I'm tired and worn. If things come full circle Will I be reborn? Is it too late To whisper my soul to the stars? Maybe reaching for heaven Is reaching too far. The cat has its fiddle The dish has its spoon I'd like to run away With the man in the moon. The saints say to fast But religion won't last The world's moving past The dice that were cast. If there's a hell below I'd rather not know- It's too late to change Too hard to lose rage. So here I am Me, myself and I And I cry myself a lullaby.

Hinder It's really good to hear your voice Saying my name It sounds so sweet Coming from the lips of an angel Hearing those words it makes me weak And I never wanna say goodbye But you make it hard to be faithful With the lips of an angel He never thought it would come down this hard. It was just a gentle patter when he had descended the flights of stairs to the grounds below. Now it drowned out the outside din of vehicles, people and music playing from the nearby building interior. Nothing else would pierce the wet applause of rain but the beating of his own heart, audible and almost deafening in his own head. The steady hammering k

           Love is always patient and kind                     it is never jealous          Love is never boastful nor conceded                     it is never rude or selfish          It does not take offense                     it is not resentful          Love takes no pleasure in other people's sins                     but delights in the truth           It is always ready to excuse                     to trust                     to hold          and to endure whatever comes