So tight, it would hurt, yet I let it be
Lured with words, blindly following commands,
I sigh in wonder, truly, what are we?
When someone would show interest in me,
again and again, you would hold my hand,
so tight, it would hurt, yet I let it be
When someone would ask about you and me,
confusion painted in your face, and then
I sigh in wonder, truly, what are we?
Got sick of playing mind games, let me be
cry silently, as I grip my own hand,
so tight, it would hurt, yet I let it be
Finally, you have the guts to ask me,
yet I stood still and threw the question back
I sigh in wonder, truly, what are we?
Genuine masochists, we both agree
I chose to walk away, yet you glomped me,
so tight, it would hurt, yet I let it be
I sigh in wonder, truly, what are we?
"when someone would show interest in me
you would grip my hand tightly
too tight that it'd hurt
and I would never complain
when someone would ask about us
you would raise your hand in the air
confusion painted on your face
and answer, "what are you talking about?"
I never asked for it
and we never talked about it
but now I wonder
what are we"
That was the original.