Am I Real And What Do I Feel

Hate Is Half A Heart

Only I Am In My Arms



You Were Sold As Something To Hold

Nothing's As Rude As The Cold

Stupidly Beautifoolish True You

Maybe Madness Is A Heart

Maybe Heaven Is A Habit



If I Could Fly I'd Live In The Sky

I'd Come From Why And Obviously You Do Too

The Very Start Of Everything Hard Could Be The Slip Of A Fingertip