Why do you make me think like this? When I don’t know what’s going on. It can’t be something I said, because I have said nothing. Maybe that’s the mistake? Maybe I didn’t say enough of what matters. The things that makes us who we are but don’t define us.
They don’t see me
In the park, on the bus, in the shopping centre and in the reflection of a mirror. I see you, but you don’t see me.
And I take you with me to the wastelands of my dreams. All the unfamiliar faces turns to figures of my imagination. And I see each…
I’m lying in bed, thinking
‘Bout when we last touched, kissed
It hurts me so much knowing
Your hands will never hold around my face again