friendship

And what is the intention of my satisfaction?

Is the means to the end all the gain of mine?

Will my heart ever learn the lesser, more narrow way?

Bubbling Brooks or deathly stil puddles, don't they both still spell liquid?

But if I claim liquid and then never flow; what good is that?

And if the branded way be the only one that bleeds Your fragrance let it be mine.

If the branches never get the gift of leaves and flowers, let them still bring a glowing heat to your skin, collide with the ax of your gentle love and feel te sting of the match that is your holiness touching me.

I ache to burn, even if it is the death of me.

It is a small way that follows the back roads to your house, and it is always dark when I reach you...

But that is your ravaging love, leaving the light on in the window to call my name as soon as iit touches my windshield...

I'll just sit here a few moments more, and let the sound of the name you call me echo all over my heart...

It's the sweetest flavor to be called friend, so I'm addicted to ruining my tires taking your dangerous backroads, careening down the twist of rock and dirt, all I can think about is the light I know you left on for me, here I come, wait up a little longer...