Maybe I'm a little bit over my head I come undone at the things he said And he's so funny in his bright red shirt We were all in love and we all got hurt I sneak into his car's cracked leather seat The smell of gasoline in the summer heat Boy, we're going way too fast It's all too sweet to last
It's alright And I put myself in his hands But I hold on to your secrets in white houses Love, or something ignites in my veins And I pray it never fades in white houses
My first time, hard to explain Rush of blood, oh, and a little bit of pain On a cloudy day, it's more common than you think He's my first mistake
aren't I lovely and do you want me? cause I am hungry and searching for something real can you see me and do you love me cause I am desperate and searching for something real?
It all comes down to intention. Nothing is sacred. Everything that has a perceived value becomes commodified.
Originality is a rarity. It is something that is perceived to be because ones own mind has conceived it. The individual mind cannot be blamed for its thought process, nor can it be held accountable for another's.
Watch your television sets. Listen to that music and enjoy it. But bear in mind that somewhere along the way, someone's mind conceived the idea.
Conceive. To create. To form or develop in the mind. The idea of cognition simply points out that the thought process is possible. Analyzation takes this a step farther. It is possible to be original.
Even the mere illusion of conception is of value.
Nothing is sacred, but don't lose hope. Value your words because most of the world won't. Don't lose what is yours because you never know when such a thought will ever come by again. Keep it for your own, and think it for yourself.