I like it when you smize at me or lean in to say something stupid.
But in the end, I'm always the idiot, aren't I?
If I put my heart in your hands, would you crush it in your palms?
Damn it to hell, I still want to be in your arms.
How are you so tall, and I so terribly small?
I hate that you're so attractive, so I need to bully you,
And yet you always stick to my side like glue.
Ah shit. Here it goes again. I know it's unrequited.
God-Mother-Fuckin'-Shittin' unrequited.
I can practically touch the parasocial obsessiveness of the mind:
blissfully delighted.
Ah, delusion.
My head's filled with so much confusion.
Do you even truly see what's laid out in front of your eyes?
Or are you masking your feelings in a disguise?
Am I too forward? Or maybe I shouldn't be moving backward.
I know I gave you too much trust, and that punishment should come soon enough.
