You don't hold enough secrets...you are an open book to me. I do not have to search for hours, on my knees, in the library, inhaling the dust and sneezing into my handkerchief.
You are right there...
you are NEON
you wear alarm bells
around your wrists
and you scream my name
over and over and over
while you play your love for me
on a loop.
I am fed up of finding you, in your best dress, telling me your a daydreamer, making sure your hair's alright.
You spend too much time thinking of me.
You don't even know me.
You don't even know.
You have pretty eyes, and a mouth a million men might like to kiss
but I'm fine without it.
My life is full up with distractions. I am a busy man. I have people to be, and places to see.
Warm figurine, I grabbed your thigh and pulled you in- because
it felt good
at the time.
We were in, out of the cold. Softly intoxicated.
Can't you just
leave
me
alone
now?
Please?
The image of your face is dim now and
I have lots to get on with.
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