the truth is, i never really know.
i don't know what i'm feeling,
or why my heart skips three beats
when she walks down hallways
that i've never even seen.
the truth is, that somedays i
feel like i'm holding air,
bottling feelings till they explode.
whispering secrets to the night sky
and wishing i could feel.
i don't know what i'm not saying,
and i wish that i could hold her.
but that can't happen. it's not possible.
i can't be there when the sun sets;
all this fear is seeping out
of the wholes that i thought
i closed up so very long ago.
and i don't know what to think.
the truth is: i don't know
the secret is: i wish i did
you wanted the truth, so
the truth is what you'll find.