I shrug, seriously trying to remember. Maybe I should start listening to him when he goes on his crazy rambles... "He likes her, I think. I'm sure he doesn't want her to feel creeped out."
I'm never what I like I'm double sided And I just can't hide I kind of like it When I make you cry 'Cause I'm twisted up, twisted up Inside
I look down at her and am about to ask what she's talking about when someone knocks at the door. Raising an eyebrow, I shake my head, "Uh... s'your house."
I'm never what I like I'm double sided And I just can't hide I kind of like it When I make you cry 'Cause I'm twisted up, twisted up Inside
These were autumn mornings, the time of year when kings of old went forth to conquest; and I, never stirring from my little corner in Calcutta, would let my mind wander over the whole world. — Rabindranath Tagore, The Cabuliwallah