Lovin Ain't for the Weak of Heart

Love ain't about the high, after all.
It ain't about the rose colored glaze
You spin over your eyes
When the first serenades
Make their way into your heart strings.

You got to leave your pride at the door,
And I mean those callouses around your soul,
Not the clothes you desperately fling to the floor.
When all your high hopes lead nowhere
And all your false bravado has failed you,
You'll see the destination you chased so rabidly
Was nothing more than a fever minded mirage.

I met my mirror image in a moment of heating passion
And followed him down to the hell we made
Happy to burn if it meant holding his hand just one moment longer.
That, I think, was the purest love of all.

My own materialistic and vain chains held me captive,
Desperate to hold on to remaining friends
And prove feeble points to my enemies.
Foolish pride has left me barren of any last war cry.
I'm waving a white flag in shame,
Hoping you don't punish me too harshly with your absence or your words.
I need your tender loving again,
But this last bit of "I need you"
Is caught in my throat,
And you're not in front of me
To read the newly scribbled pages
In my heart.