For the complacency of my actions
Not yet started, not yet done
For the blossom of your beauty
Like spring to the summer sun
For the obsessed stares and glances
Firing uncontrolled like guns
For the hopeless signs of notice
For those desperate walks, jogs, runs
For the swerves and all the corners
Stolen just to look at you
It is I who must apologise
And apologise I do.