I had the right to tell the delusional kid
"You don't know what love is"
I could see it plain as day
I said it full well knowing
I hadn't a clue myself
Does anyone?
Because it changes
It grows or decays
Depending on what who knows?
It is or it isn't
According to whom if it's not returned?
Maybe there you have it
Love is given, returned only if it's real
But that delusional kid
Who thought love was collapsing his world
He wouldn't have known his own face in the mirror
So shadowed it was by hope
Naivete brought him down, not love
Hope is a pale substitute after so long