How do I explain how I feel when I’m not sure?
I know I want you but there's something about him, but he's no Mary.
Unless we're referring to Magdalene before she be reformed.
I felt like you quit me cold turkey; I'm still not sure I was addictive.
I heard you less the more we spoke.
If silence is golden baby we're rich.
Hold on, is it still okay for me to show affection towards you or should I refrain.
Step back and retain all thought.
Push back t he fabulous bewilderment and divulge in past endeavors?
Scrambled soft like powered eggs served on pink and gold china.
Drowning in a pool of Sweat comma Keith.
Yah that was twisted.
I don’t mean to be so helplessly hopeless but I warned you when I asked why
You were so...
I inch towards and edge I know the result and
Yet closer and closer I get all the while hoping for a new result.
Einstein would deem me insane.
It almost seems like I was a match lit and left to burn out.
But here you come with fluid.
Oh baby you're fire burning white.
My life is a sad movie's montage but you're the flashback to happiness.
The necessary plot twist to a normal ending.
I've never had this feeling be so uncomfortable; it's so new.
So how do I react?
I want to analyze and pick apart the reason you call me for sadistic purposes.
I can’t believe you want me for me.
I'm praying to find a flaw in you so I can continue to be emotionally challenged but
I still can’t find one.
You're forcing me to be open and it hurts.
To want you so much without ever knowing you.
I sleep in phantom arms knowing they belong to you, even though I've never
had the pleasure.
This feeling is much more complicated than my previous but maybe it's
because something here is real.
I inch towards tears but I'm miles away from sadness.
I remember my body screaming for yours when I couldn't hold on.
I've never known something so wonderful could hurt so much.
I can’t explain why I'm crying; why I'm writing.
I haven’t heard my name in weeks.
It's been replaced with a two syllable synonym for infant.
Baby.
When I hear it I get sick.
But if you took that sickness away I'd die.
I don’t want to live without that sickness.
That gut wrenching drop that follows your words.
I'd fight to have that.
We don’t need names.
So make it hurt.
Bring down tears that move mountains.
Make me sick.
It's starting.
I know I want you but there's something about him, but he's no Mary.
Unless we're referring to Magdalene before she be reformed.
I felt like you quit me cold turkey; I'm still not sure I was addictive.
I heard you less the more we spoke.
If silence is golden baby we're rich.
Hold on, is it still okay for me to show affection towards you or should I refrain.
Step back and retain all thought.
Push back t he fabulous bewilderment and divulge in past endeavors?
Scrambled soft like powered eggs served on pink and gold china.
Drowning in a pool of Sweat comma Keith.
Yah that was twisted.
I don’t mean to be so helplessly hopeless but I warned you when I asked why
You were so...
I inch towards and edge I know the result and
Yet closer and closer I get all the while hoping for a new result.
Einstein would deem me insane.
It almost seems like I was a match lit and left to burn out.
But here you come with fluid.
Oh baby you're fire burning white.
My life is a sad movie's montage but you're the flashback to happiness.
The necessary plot twist to a normal ending.
I've never had this feeling be so uncomfortable; it's so new.
So how do I react?
I want to analyze and pick apart the reason you call me for sadistic purposes.
I can’t believe you want me for me.
I'm praying to find a flaw in you so I can continue to be emotionally challenged but
I still can’t find one.
You're forcing me to be open and it hurts.
To want you so much without ever knowing you.
I sleep in phantom arms knowing they belong to you, even though I've never
had the pleasure.
This feeling is much more complicated than my previous but maybe it's
because something here is real.
I inch towards tears but I'm miles away from sadness.
I remember my body screaming for yours when I couldn't hold on.
I've never known something so wonderful could hurt so much.
I can’t explain why I'm crying; why I'm writing.
I haven’t heard my name in weeks.
It's been replaced with a two syllable synonym for infant.
Baby.
When I hear it I get sick.
But if you took that sickness away I'd die.
I don’t want to live without that sickness.
That gut wrenching drop that follows your words.
I'd fight to have that.
We don’t need names.
So make it hurt.
Bring down tears that move mountains.
Make me sick.
It's starting.
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