i’m afraid of affection, afraid of touching lips
so instead i pull away, and just keep sharing quips
a lot of times i’m lost, and don’t know how to feel
men ask for my hand, but i don’t let ‘em take the wheel
other girls sing songs of sweet things, how love’s the greater joy
but i’m too busy plucking petals, and warding off the boys
i spend my time adventuring, and writing lots of poetry
because i cannot find the one who feels so right for me
we all have our obsessions, and little pots of greed
and sometimes cannot tell the difference between want and need
i’d like to love another, and want to cast a spell
but staying in one place seems synonymous to hell
there’s a city in the distance, a city not too far
a sanctuary i can flee to when hearts come to war
sometimes i think of traveling there with my pocket change
cause again, the thought of staying here fills me up with rage
maybe he will come soon one day and i won’t even have to think
but in the mean time i’ve got lingering thoughts, paper, and ink.