If i was giving a nickel everytie i was givin..

cheap handshakes in the pews
&bad-habit's teaching old-friends new tricks
I'd be "drop-dead" rich.
but I'm still yr slightly off-center, rotting, rocking chair - keeping you off balance.
Another antique making his grandiose entrance on yr folks porch,
with a fistful of thorns - with which to draw love.
makes me wonder on where all those 'disregarded door-bells' call home?
- most likely somewhere on my street
where even the fallen leaves that gather like loose change at my feet,
call for second chances which they'll never receive.
because to be like me, is to be an empty bottle -
you'd only keep me as a reminder of a night you can't even remember.
hidden away from the mother's and father's that pretend they don't know you drink yourself to sleep.
"no-one knows you like i do" comes prior to picking you out of the room,
and heading to the well-used rooftops we're only the ghosts of loneliness congregate.
I'm "true-blue" but not in the way the term was intended to be used.
yr eyes are my noose,
but thankfully yr kiss is the blade that cuts through rope and saves my life.
and LOVE is the only word i know that can be broken down into a thousand, and still mean exactly the same thing - every single time.