Dusty? My past is dusty.
My memories, the things I did, that's dusty...

You don't know I like you
and I am afraid to let you know...

I promise I'll be there when you need me,
I promise I'll be there when you call me...

There are so many words left unsaid.
So many things I want to say...

I look out the bay,
To my big day...

What should I do?
Should I be quiet, or should I say what's true...

What is it?
Is it a feeling...