Its not the spiritual, its not the intellectual,
Its not the merely pitiful, that makes me feel this way.
Its not the walk that I take through the park to her place,
It’s the breath she takes inbetween the words her mouth makes.
Oh curse my mind for not ceasing my mouth when the moment was perfect.
She said 'Shut up, wake up, I can smell the coffee why can't you when its so near',

She said 'Hold it, embrace, it these feelings are so real but you just choose to
ignore them.'
More like a sister to me, when she was 23,
She drew a picture of me, the likeness was uncanny.
We bless the notes in margins, in the books from the libraries,
They tell us what to feel, how to love and when to heal.
Oh curse my mind for not ceasing my mouth when the moment was perfect.
She said 'Shut up, wake up, I can smell the coffee why can't you when its so near',

She said 'Hold it, embrace, it these feelings are so real but you just choose to
ignore them.'
She said 'Screw it, just leave it, the moment was perfect but it won't be for much
longer.'