We're breaking the rules
One judge says I'm wrong
That I'm the evil mastermind concocting our crimes
One tells me it's your fault
You're the one with something to lose
but still making the mistakes
(Is it even a mistake?)
The jury stands watch from the sidelines
And they whisper the questions amongst themselves
("What are they doing?")
We stand in the center, undivided by blame and fault
We're in this together
Fingers intertwined (behind our backs)
Because the third judge is watching
Eyes like slits, she's reaching out for your hand
("Childish boy, I don't care what you want!")
But that hand, the boy who tells me of his love for October and how bored of people he is, it's all mine
You hear that? You're mine.
The judges' decrees don't mean a **** thing
When each silent look we exchange gives me more reason to fight
("Nothing, just glad I have you.")
I may have broken laws with you
but it doesn't feel as wrong
nor as beautiful
as breaking the rules