He doesn't make your knee weak,
He's beautiful and bleak.
He has a porcelain face,
That cracks when he speaks.
I go to start a conversation but I,
Get no reply,
And you stare just like a statue
As I break down and cry.
Your face is like an eagle,
But your mind is like a crow.
And boy I know you have opinions,
But you don't let them show.
You're a shelf of books with out the pages,
A wealth of thoughts locked up in cages.
So if blood runs through your veins,
Don't you suppose it's such a waste
To be composed in such a way?
Just let me in...
You write me letters
In a pen with no ink.
And you have your own eyes,
But you don't dare blink.
You speak in words,
Without a sentence.
You're the ghost that haunts me,
Without a presence...
So if blood runs through your veins,
Don't you suppose it's such a waste
To be composed in such a way?
Just let me in...
Just let me in...
