i'm a lover, and i'm a sinner...
What is it about some people? They have that dangerous appeal, and there you are with a hook to your gill like some poor fish in the river being reeled in and in and there's nothing to do that'll dislodge it. Someone strikes you in some way, and that's it. That's the end - and the beginning of this intensity, this want want want in a reckless way, the curiosity that killed the cat. That distinct fit. You feel right. I can't figure it out. The only thing I can figure out is how exceptionally rare the circumstance is that it happens.
I mean, here I am, five to two on a Tuesday night, a million things I could be doing that are more important - or even sleeping - and instead, you're there where my French homework should be, and I can't make your face shut up. I just hear you. Baby, baby, baby - when I haven't even talked to you in a week. Hands soothing a face heated by tears, firmly holding, but with a firmness that's a security or a comfort - when I haven't touched you in a week. Eyes seizing me up, moving me like a puppet attached to strings, your strings - when I haven't looked at you in a week. And I want, want, want. Doesn't matter that I'm with him.
Because it's this: I haven't felt so drawn to someone since that one reckless winter where I loved, and the devastating summer that I lost. And here it is. For what? Why? What do you have that's got such a presence in my mind? That brings me close, like I instinctually want to migrate to you? WHAT. I don't have it with him. I have...tenderness, warmth, empathy, but not the inexplicable, play with fire intensity. I thought you felt it? I thought? I mean. You don't look at just anyone the way that you looked at me. So come on. Let's play with it.
I mean, here I am, five to two on a Tuesday night, a million things I could be doing that are more important - or even sleeping - and instead, you're there where my French homework should be, and I can't make your face shut up. I just hear you. Baby, baby, baby - when I haven't even talked to you in a week. Hands soothing a face heated by tears, firmly holding, but with a firmness that's a security or a comfort - when I haven't touched you in a week. Eyes seizing me up, moving me like a puppet attached to strings, your strings - when I haven't looked at you in a week. And I want, want, want. Doesn't matter that I'm with him.
Because it's this: I haven't felt so drawn to someone since that one reckless winter where I loved, and the devastating summer that I lost. And here it is. For what? Why? What do you have that's got such a presence in my mind? That brings me close, like I instinctually want to migrate to you? WHAT. I don't have it with him. I have...tenderness, warmth, empathy, but not the inexplicable, play with fire intensity. I thought you felt it? I thought? I mean. You don't look at just anyone the way that you looked at me. So come on. Let's play with it.