This thing where we say “I love you,”
It’s not about who says it best,
or who says it most.
It’s about saying it, meaning it.
It’s about three words that collide
That make the world go round
And make your heart feel like
A rising tide, a waking volcano.
It’s about drowning,
And it’s about breathing.
It’s about losing it all,
And winning back some.
It’s about soaring,
As you’re falling.
It’s about stripping your soul naked,
And having it strut for the judges.
It’s about letting go,
And holding on.
It’s about complications,
And about affliction.
It’s about jumping forward,
When you’re falling backward.
It’s about jealousy,
And about empathy.
It’s about all things good,
And most things bad.
Feb 6, 2012
Feb 6, 2012 at 3:12 PM UTC
This thing where we say “I love you,”
It’s not about who says it best,
or who says it most.
It’s about saying it, meaning it.
It’s about three words that collide
That make the world go round
And make your heart feel like
A rising tide, a waking volcano.
It’s about drowning,
And it’s about breathing.
It’s about losing it all,
And winning back some.
It’s about soaring,
As you’re falling.
It’s about stripping your soul naked,
And having it strut for the judges.
It’s about letting go,
And holding on.
It’s about complications,
And about affliction.
It’s about jumping forward,
When you’re falling backward.
It’s about jealousy,
And about empathy.
It’s about all things good,
And most things bad.