I guess a dust free bookcase could hide a lot of lies.
Tell me honey, Is it me you despise?Some of the messages added salt to wounds.
The pain subsides and she continues to drive.
Then the car accelerated before the signal turned green.
Noone seemed to be around.
She looks at an empty suitcase full of memories.
A smile sneaks through.
Not quite sure what to ever wear...
Suitcases carry around extra clothes.
A wardrobe full of clothes that still had their tags on.
What do you wear when your world is turned up?
Do you hide under the cover of a great book?
Or maybe try to sneak a nap.
Reading leads sometimes to that.
Immaculate the bookshelf was.
The stories never in line to tell.
Now we hide in misconceptions from the past.
No stories are bound to last.
Broken dreams all written in script.
Fictional in ever after.
Sometimes this world is such a disaster.
Tell me life...
Where's the collateral?