[I gingerly stuck my toes into the deep end,
only to pull back, wrapped inside a fright.]
And I could pretend like a foxy, little moron,
that your face doesn't cross my intrinsic mind -
but that'd be a lie. (And you hate liars, right?)
I could tenderly shout at you for doing wrong,
but is it really wrong when we both see the truth?
That maybe, underneath it all, the wrong was right?
Colors of red and orange followed by green,
are flashing every time my eyes run over you.
Cause I keep wishing, hoping, and wondering,
that maybe we could reach the end of misfortune.
And yet, weeks have passed around me,
torturing glances seem to have lingered,
and my eyes keep watering with something fragile;
It's killing me to see you dancing in love with her.
