
The words, they're in my soul, you know?
I think I've got them figured out.
But once my pen hits a fresh piece of paper,
My head, it clouds with doubt.
Emotions racing towards my hands, seeking absolution,
Reaching my determined fingertips now face a persecution.
Funny how that's the way I get whenever I see your face.
But my lips instead of my fingertips seem strange and out of place.
I think of clever things to say to see your smile - perfection.
But silence is all I can portray, so afraid of your rejection.
So I'll just keep being what I am to you and live my hidden lie.
Only wishing someday the way I feel would echo in your eyes.
