You have to love something, don't you?
It doesn't make sense to live so long and not spill
Some blood taking a chance.
That's why I believe in fairies
Because they exist
In everything, they aren't seen.
Magic is what keeps an old ghost alive
When all of his old haunts tell him he's dead.
He takes a breath from time to time
Apologizing for good intentions,
Wondering what he should've said.
Truth be told, there's no right answer,
Only where the story ends or dies or kills itself.
Fabled or functionless, I spoke with love
In the only ways I could understand.
I want to hold my regret in a chalkline
With Midas hands knowing I'll die a derelict
Forever on the road of a dream I remember so well
With hope on my tongue and paint in my heart.