Her eyes
are the lightest shade of brown
so light
that if it was the
color of her hair you'd have to call her blonde
and she is
perpetually happy
and she is
perpetually asking
me for more than i could ever even hope to give
and nothing pisses me off more
than the sound of her laughing
flipping through my collection
i need the right song for this situation
too fast or too slow
too high or too low
he don't know the pain that i know
the soundtrack to my life
just the right moment and just the right time
for whatever is playing on the radio
it don't fit press play on the stereo
i'm not exactly sure when it was
that i got mixed up with the devil
but there she is
and i'm in love with her
the sense of humor
the inside jokes that
i am conditioned to laugh at
and make me want to make amends with her
but i know better
at least i think i know better
it's like a soap opera climax in the middle of a sitcom romance
and i cannot be held responsible.
you speak to me of my idle hands and i speak to you of your idle tongue
i dream in color and you will never understand
it's like a soap opera climax in the middle of a sitcom romance
i speak in riddles and you will never understand