As a delirious soul in the Asylum of Wicked I would measure my serotonin reuptake by the times your name was carved into my brain relentlessly each time you sang your song.
And if Ming Dynasty would build the Great Wall of Silence instead, it would cross your mind and pass by the corner of your smile never ending.
I'd probably try to conquer it, but my Ventolin would be defetead by them times I'd fall from you. I'd fall for you.