I don't know about you, but I am still a ghostwriter.
Fall after fall I take, just to get up and grind harder.
Witnessing shadow, twisted with riddles, I'm an old timer.
Illicit rhymer, fate fighter, I'm still a ghostwriter.
It's always summer, time doesn't exist.
I inhale the inspiring, lakeshore breeze.
Cruising with her, I feel overwhelming bliss.
I feel no burden, no regretful memories.
She caresses my soul with love in her eyes.
I feel so at ease,
as under sun dress, she shuffles her thighs.
Her hair float with light from porcelain-blue skies...
skies...... oh skies... she is my beloved prize.
I don't try to disguise my silly grin.
My soul bursts from happiness within.
Like the luckiest fool, I appear,
smiling, from ear to ear.
She has no fear, when rain plays with her hair.
And when she laughs, angelic giggles ripple through air.
She thinks city lights are a little unfair.
Neon bulbs get all the attention, but to stars in the skies, they can't compare.
Not a care...
I have when she holds my hand,
soulful beauty, unmistakable blend.
It's her natural state, not a created brand.
She doesn't hop on a latest trend.
Through rainbows or clouds, she is a perfect friend.
While at the red light we stand, a limo pulls up. It's written everywhere, Just Married.
She excitingly waves to the couple, and in her eyes I see a dream, almost buried.
As a little girl, she lined up her dolls for a wedding ceremony.
She wanted a boyfriend who is forever.
And if I play my cards for better, it just might be me.
Suddenly, the porcelain skies break and crack.
From cracks, dark fumes descend and attack.
She collapses into my arms, her head falls back.
Her eyes look plastic, filled with madness instead of charms.
Her body becomes cold, as the heart dies.
Helpless, I watch green flames devour her, right from my arms.
As she disappears, from distance... I hear battle cries."