Dear Cliche, You Can Not Comfort Me

they always said the good die youngwell she wasn't dead before she was goneshe lost it all to the ones she lovedand they never threw a line back in returncaught in between the living and the deceasedpressing roses into bible page creaseswhat have you left her withshe is looking for love beyond a simple kissnever go to bed when you're angryyou may not wake up to be happyyou stutter when you find you're foundwhen your enemies can push you to the groundthe hollow minute comes when you're mystifiedthe good are never ever guaranteed to be found"Dear Cliche, you can not comfort me..."she wasn't sure of the ending to a perfect storynever-ending left her not to worryshe didn't have a pit when there was a sequelbut no one ever understood the plot leaving unwellthere is a spell resting on her headthere is another man in the back on her bedshe never kept too close and she didn't believeshe didn't believe that love could be such a reliefnever go to bed when you're angryyou may not wake up to be happyyou stutter when you find you're foundwhen your enemies can push you to the groundthe hollow minute comes when you're mystifiedthe good are never ever guaranteed to be found"Dear Cliche, you can not comfort me..."the light broke the night and shattered the skiesit opened the flowers and tore open her eyesand she found that love was there the whole timeclosed behind the house and the shading blindsnever go to bed when you're angryyou may not wake up to be happyyou stutter when you find you're foundwhen your enemies can push you to the groundthe hollow minute comes when you're mystifiedthe good are never ever guaranteed to be found"Dear Cliche, you can not comfort me..."