Over and over, again and again
Too much is in the way.
The sight of her sparks a freeing sensation, a blaze of infatuating curiosity.
And as I ponder, I wander, I begin to shift to the worlds that exist only when I'm dreaming, when im fully susceptible to my wonder.
I secretly want her, I secretly want to hold her, and feel like I'm not alone.
I want to be drowning in the waves of emotion that wake in her intoxicating aura.
Shes what I want, but can only have when I dream.
the world is ours when I dream. These spaces are a little less lonely when I dream, the air is easier to breathe when I dream.

But there are walls that by code I cannot breach.
The one high I cannot reach.
And by the mocking of the old crows screech, I feel I'm doomed to watch this flower bloom by the light of another man's heat.

The devil on my shoulder cries, to hell with your honor, ****** the man who wont honor her, while my angel implores that I mustn't haste that which I cannot change, how I wasted time sitting idly by, blind to the beauty in front of me. I hadn't shone the light she deserved, the light she needed to flourish. I watch her now, in bloom, in someone else's garden And inside i die a little more with each passing second of this paralyzing predicament. Each second I want to curl up fetal, wishing I had hastened that which I could've changed long before I allowed this much to get in the way.