Walking me home,
Your hand slips down to the small of my back,
Guiding me to my door again,
It feels like a routine by now,
Never have gone past this paneled glass door,
Where just one date has led to something,
Something much more,
I can feel the breeze on my skin,
Sends shivers down my spine,
And the purple-blue tones casted on that face of yours,
The colours of the city lights
And the hope in your eyes,
For how long will I sit here in gaze,
Your a constant reminder of what I've always wanted,
Or a reminder of what could've been,
I never thought it be this hard,
Just *Walking me home again