the painted paper tiger

heart of a lion
and eyes of the storm,
she's been representing
these cliche's since the day she was born.

hateful lover,
and a loving friend...
her dreams bessech her
but her nightmares are what find her in the end.

she's made of paper
and she's made of paint.
heartbeats connected by ties
that leave nothing but pleasure and shame.
I am a paper tiger
she is a honest liar.
where will we find
that happy line
in which we either jump our faults
or just fall behind.

She finds aesthertic in colour and tint,
i find beauty in the shadows that swallow and shift.
where do we fall
in between one another?
fact of the matter is
that we share a lover...

but we cant say it now.
we cant say it now.

she's made of paper
and she's made of paint-
heartbeats connected by ties
that leave nothing but pleasure and shame.
I am the paper tiger
she s the honest liar
where will we find
that happy line
in which we either jump these faults
or fall behind.

I write the words,
but she paints the picture.
both in an honest light,
both depicting a bitter saint
and a sickened sinner.
Brick walls
and late night calls
we drove down the strip
to dissolve in the light
the oppertunities missed.

I am a paper tiger
she is a... well a honest liar.
together we contridict
but short comings are easier to admit.

we cant say the good things yet
we cant say i love you yet.
so we hold eachothers heads up
cause' were not ready to hold em' up on our own...

not yet.