youth, thy bliss


SIDE A 

1. for,
Existing in different realms of reality,
The translucent, the windows from my words to my morality,
Volatility in every bone of my body,
Some things will change,
But you are my propriety,
My terms with reality,
Path to sobriety,
 from trumpets heavens seem to play,
What hemlock was to pioneers of the world we see.

To hold on to you,
to be part of that world we dream,
To be with you,
In death and in the life we live,
In pavements and in the future we see,
You're my northern star,
Walking down La ville lumière,
Like camus and Francine,
tu es à moi,
Tu es a moi


2. Oh poor 
All we were as children,
All our white plain ts,
They are all pale now,
Teary eyed goodbyes now,
The acid and jane you stayed away from.

The wild youth has come,
The scary nervous wreck needs an outlet. 

Oh you're so wild and hungry,
Your love never found an outlet,
And now you're letting it fill the one you've made your,
The one standing up, when you're getting bullied like you do.

Oh poor , do these help?
Make you forget?
What you fear and dread?
Reality and that Tomorrow has already arrived,
At door with a future already decided?
Do these help?
Do you feel felt?

3. Pictures to look back to

The whispers of classrooms,
The smell of old tiffins,
Home made food, 
Long hallways and longer classes to daze through,
Elations of youth,
we thought life was ahead,
Till we reached that place,
Looking back to realise,
The peaks of joy were already felt.

Now vessels of memory,
Pressure to be something,
The wish to be back,
To go back to that reality.



4. First times

The glee of the slowly trembling night,
The tremendous blaze of the precious heart,
Burdened by what is promised,
Till you meet such a soul as tormented,
Those trembling nights is of which I talk,
When your guardian's words may not matter,
Of these boundaries of lines may not,
For you must feel,
Has such opportunity ever been so bright?
So obvious and bluntly loud,
That these naked vessels may make you heard like you haven't,
That those expectations and fears subside,
That in times to come,
You may look back,
To the sweet memories of first times.


5. Us 
Talked in metaphors,
Because realities can cut too deep,
Hid away from self, 
written same things again till I'm unable to,
Till I feel like I've written everything new.
Till my paintbrush wears out,
My voice truns to a faint whisper.
I fell in love with these sweet anger,
These sweet moments of rage and love.
I love this girl I knew,
She'll older but younger than anyone I know,
She'll make you feel dumb, but make you still smile,
Blunt if not shy,
Loud if not in joy,
innocent if not while in love,
She's mine, in all my words I write.
She makes me belive,
Makes me forget,
She makes me pray,
Scared, afraid, in love, myself.

My desire to fulfill,
Remove all the curses,
It's cursive when I write down all these verses,
Cause deep down my vulnerabilities all come out,
When she do hold me,
Compose me like music,
I'm keen, want to notice,
Everything that's wrong,
Want to be what she's  to me.

-nei

for the young and confused. 
and most importantly for my love, shrawani. 


A shorter peice this is, something more consise coming up


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