I’m believing that you will reach to your thoughts and
make me your’s, presently or following, because of this
one-way mania, ain’t amusing anymore.
Maybe being in check of their confusion wind
your intention away, I’m hugging you, I’m crazy to be your
only vote and you’d have to stay.
Maybe when you are mine, I’ll be your ideal
agitation, yeah; I wouldn’t complain that it’s holding
you so high to let me in.