Oh god, where do I even begin?
Maybe with his eyes.
Blue. Bright blue, staring into mine. And yeah, he's on the stage, and I'm in the crowd, but they're blue. Bright blue.
Maybe with his hands.
Skilful. Elegantly skillful, over the keys, the strings, the drums. And yeah, he's on the stage, and I'm in the crowd, but they're skillful, elegantly skillful.

Maybe with his mind.
Maybe with mine.
Maybe with how we think alike,
Or how I feel like he gets me.
And yeah he's on the stage, and I'm in the crowd, but he knows and I know and if only one of us would stop being so shy and awkward and just talk to one another.

I've fallen into this hole on my own.
Don't kid yourself,
It'll never happen

But I can't let go.
*Where do I even begin?