Look at this fool
Who writes of not knowing love
And yet here she stands
Heart in her throat

She fears it's temporary;
Litter skipping across asphalt
On a windy day

How it's always been

Look at this girl's farce
As she claims "Not I!
My head is too filled with
Numbers and ruined paint
And things much too cumbersome
To carry such a heavy load!"

But oh, oh that face is
Something special

Look how it ruins her even now
And how blind it is
To her stumble

Whatever it is

She feels her pulse in her
Very fingers
Just wondering what it is

Look at this silly young thing
Always blind sided
When she's made up her mind