I gave you
My heart
So quickly
And without
Hesitation
That I never
Bothered to ask
If you wanted it
To begin with.

And now
As I stare at
All the messages
I sent to you,
Each one left
Unanswered,
I wonder if
Maybe
I should have.

I used to make fun of
Those naïve, lovesick girls
That stared out windows
Daydreaming of the boys
Who they'd been silly enough
To give their hearts to

I swore that I would never be
So foolish as to fall,
For with falling comes feeling
The crushing pain of loss
When it all undoubtedly
Hits the ground

But how could I predict
The sensation that would come
When you so suddenly
Found your way behind these
Walls I'd built so high?
You with those eyes and that smile.

How easily you persuaded me
Out of my cynicism.
My firm grip loosened
When I heard you sing that night
And I felt myself begin to fall,
Not knowing if you'd catch me.

Now I am that lovesick girl
Who stares out windows
Daydreaming of the beautiful boy
Who holds her heart
So carefully in his hands,
Silently hoping
That he'll decide to keep it.

For a minute
I actually thought I was okay
And then
I heard that song
The one we danced to
In the moonlight
Under the stars
At midnight

What a cruel joke to play
On a girl whose heart was
Already so scarred.
To shine a light at the end
Of a darkened tunnel
Only to ***** it out
Before the threshold.
To reach out a hand
As she drowned
Only to push her further
Into the murky water,
Though she'd only just found
The strength to resurface
And feel the sunlight
On her skin.

The splendour falls on castle walls
And snowy summits old in story:
The long light shakes across the lakes,
And the wild cataract leaps in glory.
Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying,
Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.

O hark, O hear! how thin and clear,
And thinner, clearer, farther going!
O sweet and far from cliff and scar
The horns of Elfland faintly blowing!
Blow, let us hear the purple glens replying:
Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.

O love, they die in yon rich sky,
They faint on hill or field or river:
Our echoes roll from soul to soul,
And grow for ever and for ever.
Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying,
And answer, echoes, answer, dying, dying, dying.