I'm the smoke from your fire,

I'm that lie you can trust,

I'm the chord on your guitar,

I'm that girl you can't shut up.

I'm that blood you might need,

in your car when you speed,

in that cigarette you breathe.

You can't get rid of me.

The truth is, you could slit my throat and with my one last breath, I'd apologize for bleeding on your shirt.

I figured out that tears couldn't make somebody who was dead alive again. There's another thing about tears, they can't make somebody that doesn't love you anymore love you again. It's the same with prayers. I wonder how much of their lives people waste crying and praying to God. If you ask me, the devil makes more sense than God does.
I can see why people would want him around. It's good to have somebody to blame for all the bad stuff they do. Maybe God's there, because people get scared of all the bad stuff they do. They figure that God and the Devil are always playing this game of tug-of-war game with them. And they never know which side their gonna wind up on. I guess that tug-of-war idea explains how sometimes, even when people try and do something good, it still turns out bad.

The worst thing in life is to lose a friend,

a friend that means the world to you,

a friend that you put all your trust and faith in,

a friend that took the centre of your heart,

a friend that you'd die for,

a friend that you wanted to cherish for a lifetime,

a friend, a good friend, a best friend.

Es difícil guardar un secreto cuando lo llevas escrito por todo el cuerpo.

You will never forget your first love, that's what makes it so special. You love so hard, so deeply, so intensely, because you don't know any different. It's the best until it's over, then you hurt like you've never hurt before. Eventually you love again, but you love differently. You will love more carefully, more cautiously. Just know that there is always so much more love waiting for you, but there will always only be one first.

Los años pasaron, pero jamas volvi a sentir soledad, incluso en mis momentos mas tristes, se que no es el viento el que acaricia mi cara.