There’s always a thrill of a left-over frill,
Strange, they say you get wiser with time,
With time I learn’t what my love is,
What it feels like to love somebody else and when someone else could love you the same,
I look at you, I look at you, how could somebody not love this being I think.
I look at myself, I look at myself, how could somebody love so much I ponder.
Is there something similar between you and me?
I’m desperate to say so, but yes, something is.
Being loved still thrills me the way I am for you.
Kiddish me says stop here, stop here cos nobody ain’t got time to be acting less than wise.
Whatsoever way you do away with me, I got nothing to lose,
Cos I’ve lost each time, every time.
Say nothing, cos I deserve no words from you.
But I do deserve that eyes which exhilarate me with love,
I do deserve that sweet fragrance of yours which makes my heart race.
Can’t say how much I hate your fake smile,
Your fake gestures of care.
I should’ve shut the door early, early enough not to let the strangers in.
Not to let the strangers in.
It’s my predicament forever, that why did I ever say it was fake, it might not be. But I could never ask you.
I could never ask you.