i'm scared of art museums
but if you held my hand
i might be fine

i'm not worthy of your time
but i guess you're right
we all think lowly of ourselves

i kept my love for you in a locked room
but i wasn't prepared for you
to tell me that you loved me too

is it my way with words
and your way with a pen
that made me want to fall in love again

let us hold hands under the table
and you squeeze mine a little tighter every time