Intoxication, infatuation, i can taste you on my...
the line between just friends and almost lovers...

The water is murky and the mirrors are steamed
The clocks striking twelve, but it isn't a dream...

The leaves that flutter, and float from your head
You search the ground for the thoughts you have...

And yes this is me accusing you:
accusing you of being perfect...

Butterflies and summer skies
Winter nights and water fights...