My feathers get sharper in hurricanes, but I create troubles for myself in my brain. I’m notorious for seclusion, but when it comes to passion I’ve earned myself some fame.
I fly up to the moon and fall back in rain. I’m locked in paradox; I have no one to blame. I dream of you frequently, but when it comes to confession I am bloody lame.
We take our hands and spin each other often. I know you inside out like a poem. I’m dumbstruck by your beauty; you’re an emblem, but when it comes to face your face I’m wooden.
I tell them lies that I’m numb. I know I’m smart but my heart is really dumb. I’m complicated like multi-layered conundrum, but when there are talks about you I’m cut open.
And I’m shaken by the fact that you’re taken.