“The girl with the heart of gold, bled for you in ink.”

We are the novel I keep reading.

The girl with the heart of gold, bled for you in ink.

And I don’t want to fall, unless its you I’m falling into.

She’s not your unicorn. She’s her own mother fucking dragon.

We are no different – we go back to anyone just to have something to do.

I heard you went to outer space, and while you dreamt – the planets and galaxies whispered my name.

She’s not your unicorn. She’s her own mother fucking dragon.

You and I flirt in ways they don’t know exist.

You look at me like supper, and I just want to be your last one this time.

You’re living the skyscraper life up high just so your ego can soar high.

You come back to ask me if I’m happy, and it shows me its you who isn’t.

We don’t belong to anyone. Half the time we don’t even belong to ourselves.

He says he wants to take me to Paris – but I see Amsterdam in his eyes.

Boys with skeletons in their closets – they make skeletons out of girls.

Lets admit it: we all play the game of hide and seek fairly well.

Please – stop living in boxes where you can’t breathe.

I never look at it like I’m wasting money when I’m buying gold.

God is not looking for gold vessels or silver vessels. He is looking for willing vessels

[God] wants you to have something far better than riches and gold, and that is helpless dependence upon Him.

Only the foolish, blinded by language’s conventions, think of fire as red or gold. Fire is blue at it’s melancholy rim, green in it’s envious heart. It may burn white, or even, in it’s greatest rages, black.

Your heart of gold will always be worth more than money.

The golden opportunity you are seeking is in yourself. It is not in your environment; it is not in luck or chance, or the help of others; it is in yourself alone.

The golden age only comes to men when they have forgotten gold.

These happy golden years are passing by, these happy golden years.