The Foreboding Sense of Impending Happiness
By your heart strings I'm hanging from a dream, 
 Gently swinging in the warm autumn breeze.
 Come look at the scars, smother a heart, opening up... 
 Look at the scars, smother a heart, opening up, no more.
 
 Tip toeing along a strand of your hair suspended between, 
 These thoughts and actions miles above reality.
 Come look at the scars, smother a heart, opening up... 
 Look at the scars, smother a heart, opening up... 
 
 Come look at the scars, smother a heart, opening up... 
 Look at the scars, smother a heart, opening up... 
 Look at the scars, smother a heart, opening up... 
 Look at the scars, smother a heart, opening up···
 Look at the scars, smother a heart, opening up.