Ashes To Ashley

(アルバム： The Balancing Act - 2008)

For every hole I've punched in the wall
Every piece of paper crumpled as we've suffer in the bloodiest fall
For every pulsating ego blistered into moon ripe nosebleeds
I nurse these festering wounds and drop rose seeds
But grow an orchid garden
Now the paint on your portrait hardens with a face that resorts to jargon
Scribbled like a suicide note
Like I'll stop
I show the beauty by a profile shot
Freeze, don't fret for the truth
Cause I'll pray till I heard footsteps on the roof
I swear to God I don't believe in angels
Ask me, atheist, Ashley
Where's the wings in this relationship?
Passions have passed me, cast another spell
Mortified, melancholy, Madness to Michelle
Suicide Sarah, alliterate your fate, worship the absence and demonstrate my faith
(I glanced in the mirror on my bathroom door
I saw her dance in the rain in the summer downpour)
I saw her dance till the rain put the fire out
Burned at the stake, Joan of Arc, little anxious saint
I illustrate the gates of hell into my notebook her flesh burns up in the furnace
Ashes to Ashley
Urn to something earnest
I slit my wrists in cursive (with an ink pen)
Write a revelation, burn a stack of bibles
Question my faith, get my churlish ass to smile
Find another subtle piece of confidence to muster
Her ministry echoes in this monolithic structure
Cremate the dying Christmas trees
The winter is full of bitter, ashy, black blizzards
So when the superstition delivered
And it came down the chimney, they found her in the fireplace with me
Ashes to Ashley

It's not going out; it's still half-dead
How many angels can you fit on a match head?
Count them
Try start a fire
Do it
Turn the volume down
Or write a song to her movement

The fire's only half-dead
How many angels can you fit on a match head?
Count them
Try to start a fire
Do it
Turn the volume down
Or write a song to her movement

The fire's only half-dead
How many angels can you fit on a match head?
Count them
Try to start a fire
Do it
Turn the volume down
Or write a song to her movement

I'm feeling like I'm half-dead
How many angels can you fit on a match head?
Count them
Try to start a fire
Do it
Turn the volume down
And watch her move...

We walked a broken path while the sun was bleak
And we were holding hands on these rusted swings
That I called "us" and thought my love would sink
Underseas that we would drown underneath
When you would swim deep to catch my lip's speech
To try to catch drifts to catch what it means
And you found what would grow between us
So I thought about you while I wrote The Phoenix
And now my spine shivers from the notes that you speak
Of perfect pitched melodies and emotions you seek
That I'm composing in dreams, so you can see that I love you
And I'll hold your broken dreams till I'm bleeding in puddles
She breaks bones, engraves poems in gravestones (Text!)
Paints quotes of pathos as pain grows (Next!)
Rain flows became hopes of rainbows (When!)
Angels with halos and saints spoke (Blessed!)
Death to this world now we've given enough
I wanna hide you from the company that misery loves
And so I (draw blood) with few strokes (and our love) it drew close
So you can draw attention with the pen that you hold
Reveal your energy; and we'll just get to keep
The radio-active I can feel your chemistry
When we gaze at sea waves and freebase off replays
That re-late to cliches to see fate will be grace
I find peace in our dance on ice sheets
To bathe your silhouette in the tears the skies weep
We'll burn bridges to find warmth from life's storms
And cross roads at the point where lives meet
I'll show you memories I hate to reveal
If you could feel what I say then I could say what I feel
And I finally learned what it takes to confess
I'll take you to a place filled with grace and sunsets