every dandelion i wished on,
i wished you were mine,
i wished that you liked me too,
i wished that you didn't choose her.
every birthday candle i blow out now,
the wish is,
that you'll love me back someday.
every shooting star i wish on,
it's always the same wishes,
that you'll love me back,
that you were mine,
or that it was never really her.
