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.