It's only for those who know;
he seems not to know enough
about truly knowing the things about love
And how to speak of it with just a minor taste
of it in his mouth

Kissing so many strangers; kisses that start
to all feel familiar
Pointless shooting your shot; what's the point
if we're just victims to it's trigger
The victor of vigour, to prove your victory
of finding love
Oh only the foolish are the ones to see a present
victory, more than a future of successes
And for him,— it's all just another scar