I can see the words inside your silence, but I can’t speak about your pain for you How long can you burn for anyways Turning over and back again with tongues ablaze like lions without teeth, hungry Staring at the forests of flames and our eyes just talking with the trees If we could drift long enough we’ll be home Sails blown by the fire within pushing me to you And you can live inside of me, sewn together Breaking, inhaling, growing and breaking again and again And you are a part of me You are my home and I’m your home but I’m no place you’ll wanna to be So I’m out here again, sparks hid behind my teeth I won’t say a word for fear of failure spreading It takes some of us longer to get to our dead-ends now Oh blood-stained with loose living Ran through charcoal hearts to make it red And we can be on fire again, you and I, do you want this Well say what you want, say what you mean Or we can talk, lung to closed ear Head inside a hand turning over again, together Cut up with cheap heat running through our veins And we can lay brick by broken brick, our ashes pushed in between And build this road back home to where we wanna be We are not on our own, we are the same
It’s not about the kissing, holding hands, the dates, the sex, and showing off. It’s about being with someone who makes you happy in a way that no one else can. It’s about being with someone who accepts you and your weirdness. It’s about being yourself around them and they can be their self around you.
I think one of the saddest things is when two people really get to know each other: their secrets, their fears, their favourite things, what they love, what they hate, literally everything, and then they go back to being strangers. It’s like you have to walk past them and pretend like you never knew them, never even talked to them before, when really, you know everything about them.
“It’s still amazing when like, Thom plays you a song and it just reminds you, when you know, he sent you a cassette when you were 17, 18 at college from Exeter of like, songs he’s working on and you still get that same feeling, so that’s enormously a privilege, really.”— Colin Greenwood, Montreux Jazz Festival. (via biitumen)
I’ve often seen people share that quote, something like “getting married at 22 is kind of like leaving a party at 9:30.” This does not offend me. I agree. I left with the hottest and funnest person at the party and we picked up a pizza on the way home and are snuggled up watching Mad Men together, and everyone else is still at the party getting super wasted and barfing on themselves and making regrettable decisions.