You Can't Write A Book...

You can't write a book upon Keats hill
You can't fly a pigeon without its will
You can't bury love inside your heart
When a pretty loving poem falls apart

Little things gather up around us all
And the bigger picture stands so tall
Why would you want to sit down to ask
And why you wonder about the past?

Call the colours of a rainbow pretty blue
Call in for all the love I've found for you
Can't build a love out of someone else
Can't hold up your jeans without a belt.

When you can't hide all alone up a tree
You don't sail Titanic 2 across the seas
You can't hold a hand without the pain
When every love you have is the same.

You won't find the answers in a hot hotel
You won't find its freedom like William Tell
You won't start a flame without your flint
And you won't ever shine without its glint.

You can't sit upon the meadowed feilds
But can sit upon a thought that stood still
When where flowers grew they had died
Can you hear roses whispers that cried?

Try not to fall off a cliff, sandcastles will do
Try not to drown before you know you can
Try to think of others who are telling the truth
Try to lay down the rules to make him a man.

You are instead of the stories being told
You are your light before you're too old
With a million footsteps come passing by
Another million pillows wet and won't dry.

One day you'll be a sparkling light-up close
One day you'll be shining more than most
And when one day had once roamed before
Once when one day you'll return for more.

You can write a poem upon a ladies dream
And write a novel if you know what it means
From page to page the heart begins to bleed
And as another book can tell what it needs.

A love branch was caught up in the tree
A love branch broke as she landed on me
You can find love in the places rarely seen
You can feel paradise-like that you never see.