There's lightning outside, while on the inside I dream of the ways you can light me up.
My thoughts keep drifting to your silent smirk, the sure sign of a winner.
I seem to have stumbled my way into your headlights.
I had no intention of losing until you came into focus, until you owned the game.
My ego keeps slipping through my fingers, an indication of lost time.
My bare feet long to dance on cold ceramic tiles, to breathe in endless plastic roses.
You see my luck seems to always slip away from me.
One was the father of a child, forever bound to his little girl.
The second was bound to another, as if they were only meant for each other.
The third was my pitfal, he was all is fair in love and war until someone's heart was ripped apart.
Now I have nothing to lose, because he is a lone howler and his heart only loves the open road.
I realize that eventually none of it really matters as long as I can feel the pressure from your fingers.
All I need is to admit defeat, God had dealt me a losing hand.
Now I stay up late chain-smoking, and hoping for some solution.
My heart beats on a path my mind can't control and my feet have become tangled in these threads