He is the kind of guy that makes you go crazy.
Like a glimpse through the looking glass into a strangle world
with a Chesire Cat.
You might even question if he slipped something into your drink.

If only you had that effect on someone.
You spray your perfume on his clothes so that maybe,
oh maybe
he'll think of you next time he's taking off his shirt.

But when you wake up from the hangover,
the *******,
the euphoria,
he is just a man.
And maybe,
(is it that you weren't pretty enough?)
(could you have done something differently?)
you were too good for him anyway.