Love.

I wonder sometimes if love is more than all that's said by love-sickened dreamers.
Expression is lost at the turn of a page, at the death of another believer.
Love
They say it's mystery, but found at certain glance
Love
They say is hard to find, but find it at a pass.
I'm lost to see that even when I hold fast I am fighting
And hard to hear that even though I love my love is biting
I try to hide when love comes near
But search in stars and writing
I pull away from easy fear
But run towards light when blinding
Love
I'm lost inside the fact
that everyone's deceitful
Love
I'm found inside the fact
that every home's a sequel.