I want this so bad; I can practically taste it.
I want us to work; I want us to make it.
And everything you feel crawls underneath my skin.
Your emotion, so real, almost feels like a sin.
Like worn out tires, I'm losing grip.
Thrown off by this road, that's slippery and wet.
I'm losing faith and direction; I'm losing control.
I need your arms for protection, to pull me out of this black hole.
