My mind cries of all the possibilities, of you and I. And I might find I might die
because of this, and how kind that I don't mind. I know I'm not much and I cannot be more than
what you need from me. I dangle from a lead of my own longing, and I wish I could be free. Can
you see? Can you see, Can you see? Can you see? You rely on listening to eulogies. Do you even
cry? And designed, you're intertwined. Never amiss, and I think I'm misaligned. Soft to the
touch, not much more I can be, more than what you need from me. I dangle from a lead of my
own longing, and I wish I could be free. Can you see? Can you see, Can you see? Can you see?
