Would’ve lived if I never left? 

In the midnight sky were stars igniting your heart, with the vinyl on the shelf, cigarettes on the desk, and the smell of pastels,  making the heat go to the sky, and your mind burn down. It’s time to draw your life, take your brush, and paint the guy in the frame.

Tones of blues, grays, and maroon make your new muse
Will it be your last chance? 
Will you be brave to hide your lies? 
Will it be another fraud? 
The art always sees the light, I'm not your kill-time guy. 

2 feet apart, is a risk to say goodbye, we were shaking hands I guess a safe caress, and then I closed my eyes every time I saw a shooting star, wishing you had grabbed me with your arms, but it would’ve been our last sunrise.

I promise I will be the guy on the shelf in the back of your head, I'll always be in the room until you need to paint the grays again. I've been running and hunting, and I was the prey. Would you be the hunter or the thief? The rain and mud mess up the gold in my face, and the dust and rust take the color of the frame.

We danced in your lonely house, it was always in the dark, you should turn on the lights and take me down the aisle, show them how the whispers of your cynicism made bruises in my life.
Bushstokers with fear, trying to repair the cracks in my soul, but the scars will always be a slit in the wall.
Now I had these shades in my colors, looks old for a young boy.
Start your new art, run from the harsh truth of a cowardly man.
You can´t be a real one.

December stars and the stone in her hand.
Everyone has a word to say to the new pair of Saint Peter Bay.
With the glitter in the air, and the alcohol in their veins, it is time to celebrate, the pretender gets his golden chain.

Is this the way to escape from your deepest desires?
I'm knocking from the basement, which is a dark place for your best mess.
I'm used to this frame, I'm ok to be your secret sin, believers are always right, you just need to pretend til you have what you yearn for, maybe killing someone's heart, writing your name in the corner of the linen, I'm yours but you´re not mine. 

25, not old enough to settle down, 19, grown enough to be in your lap. 
Sitting on a pier, pretending you would be next to me, but the time passed and the mold covered my whole life, I can't lie to anyone...

This work of art gets lost in time.

I was your box of lies.
I was your fearless guy, 
I'm your favorite crime.
I'm the boy in the frame.
I'm stuck in his mind.
Would you remember this guy?

I’ll be here for a lifetime.