Music sounds a lot better when it makes me think of you.
From my rotting body, flowers shall grow and I am in them and that is eternity.
It's all doomed when you go outside and realize the wind has never heard your name.
Am I too young to be this mad?

I like naps and you.
I am better than I was.
You have to be okay with change; otherwise, how will you grow?
I will design a life I love.
Who am I whithout my sensitive heart?
Too young to hold on, and too old to just break free and run.