How fickle my heart and how woozy my eyes. I struggle to find any truth in your lies. And now my heart stumbles on things I don’t know. My weakness I feel I must finally show.
Lend me your hand and we’ll conquer them all. But lend me my heart and I’ll just let you fall. Lend me your eyes, I can change what you see. But your soul you must keep, totally free.
Awake my soul.
In these bodies we will live, in these bodies we will die. Where you invest your love, you invest your life.
-Mumford & Sons
Home is where i want to be
Pick me up and turn me round
I feel numb - born with a weak heart
So I guess I must be having fun
The less we say about it the better
Make it up as we go along
Feet on the ground
Head in the sky
It’s okay I know nothing’s wrong … nothing
I got plenty of time
You got light in your eyes
And you’re standing here beside me
I love the passing of time
Never for money
Always for love
Cover up and say goodnight … say goodnight
Home - is where I want to be
But I guess i’m already there
I come home - -she lifted up her wings
Guess that this must be the place
I can’t tell one from another
Did I find you, or you find me?
There was a time before we were born
If someone asks, this where I’ll be … where I’ll be
We drift in and out
Sing into my mouth
Out of all tose kinds of people
You got a face with a view
I’m just an animal looking for a home
Share the same space for a minute or two
And you love me till my heart stops
Love me till i’m dead
Eyes that light up, eyes look through you
Cover up the blank spots
Hit me on the head
“Old?” asked Clevinger with surprise. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m not old.”
“You’re inches away from death every time you go on a mission. How much older can you be at your age? A half minute before that you were stepping into high school, and an unhooked brassiere was as close as you ever hoped to get to paradise. Only a fifth of a second before that you were a small kid with a ten-week summer vacation that lasted a hundred thousand years and still ended too soon. Zip! They go rocketing by so fast. How the hell else are you ever going to slow time down?” Dunbar was almost angry when he finished.
“Well, maybe it is true,” Clevinger conceded unwillingly in a subdued tone. “Maybe a long life does have to be filled with many unpleasant conditions if it’s to seem long. But in that event, who wants one?”
“I do,” Dunbar told him.
“Why?” Clevinger asked.
“What else is there?” —Catch-22 by Joseph Heller