The lights were dim and the day was dead,
With music pumping out from somewhere far away.
You looked at me
And I should've known then, that this
Was the moment the rollercoaster tips off the edge.
Now I can count the freckles on your cheeks
And sketch the pattern of your jeans,
Picture the strands of your hair,
The way your breath mists the air.
One touch and I remember
The lines that mark your skin
The softness of your fingertips
Brushing up against mine.
But I'm waking up from this pleasant dream
the clouds have already turned grey.
I cry because beyond my reach is a past that I cannot forget.
You're so close to me,
Walking side by side, you see,
I'm having such a hard time holding myself back.
I only just met you, and already you're there,
This is the stuff of fairytales,
Holding me ten feet in the air,
Dangling from the roof
Of a hundred storey building,
But I just can't bring myself to care.
But we're just a dream, a story,
So tell me how is this fair?
the clouds have already turned grey.
I cry because beyond my reach is a past that I cannot forget.
You're so close to me,
Walking side by side, you see,
I'm having such a hard time holding myself back.
I only just met you, and already you're there,
This is the stuff of fairytales,
Holding me ten feet in the air,
Dangling from the roof
Of a hundred storey building,
But I just can't bring myself to care.
But we're just a dream, a story,
So tell me how is this fair?
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