Concept falls like flowers.
In our own world now.
What if we showed love before it’s too late?
Old deep love worn down, let fray to waste.
Stumble out with grace.
Leak it, speak it.
Spill it all somewhere and fill yourself up again
with whatever you’d like.
Tonight.
Love, you only knew how to send it out.
Love, you couldn’t ever feel it.
Spill it, fill it up with whatever you’re feeling.
Sat outside a small town hotel to write
about idols, in neutral, leaving too early again.
When is this all gonna end?
Stigma, best not to talk about it.
I’ll still always listen.
Ink into oceans,
it’s this same pen and book.
It’s tears and rain ruining pages
my tapping toes making strangers look.
Outside a cheap hotel in a decent midwest town.
Snow on the pines, like your music on my mind.
Speaking, souling, soaring, so high,
scatting your thoughts like they are mine.
Out of the blue, out of control, always on time,
saw you all over the place and
saw it from so far away.
Little ball of fire bouncing
higher, on the later stages of life.
Not even the later, only the stages.
The leaving left us all feeling.
One soul’s the soundtrack to so many lives.
You could’ve spilled it all,
don’t you see us all now?
Nothing’s ever broken.
People, stop leaving so early.
Demons, leave people alone.
this is your life chuck johnson 