The Italian dining and teddy bears
They were all a lie: your spell on me
Or were they the truth that never spoke
Mystery boy, I hate it when you do this to me
It makes me ill to know you’re too shy,
Too embarrassed to talk to me in ordinary public,
To your family, even on the Internet
To laugh like two old friends poking along the park
And to yarn until darkness sets in
When you’re sleeping and I’m still up
Just staring at you as you breathe
I want to reach over to you
Without having my hand go through your heart
Then out again and again
I can’t get enough of you:
You’re my drug and the reason I want morphine
I want the answer: the cure
Why did you cruse me with yourself?
