Everyone's too in love and flowers pick themselves.
Here and there and this and that and I've renamed myself "Afterwards" after all your words,
Your words you gave to the birds and the bees and to all without wings and everyone's too in love and I'm just a frail hand looking for a glove to cover these fingers you held so close.
We were so close and who knows what we could have been,
but that's the past and today's today,
a day to say I have nothing to fear but I wish I had someone right here to listen and hear with eyes to eyes and lip to lip,
wake up to a peace of mind,
an imprint on my double bed to hold my head and to say what you said.
I'm not dead but I want it in my head and I don't GOT the power to pick my own flowers cause I'm too tired with these fascinations I have,
and I'm sure if all heard this,
they'd just laugh.
"Silly girl, fancying herself..."
But the truth is I'm living in hell,
the worst place to be,
but can't anyone see it's not up to me,
it's not up to me to drown myself in this sea of ideals.
And ask me:
"Water in your lungs...how's it feel?"
"Water in your lungs...that could kill!"
And I don't need to swim until I drown in the sounds of illusions and delusions and sight and smell and sound.
cause everyone's too in love.