I wish I was that guy,
combing your hair,
holding you here,
because I'm jealous.
Jealous that the guy you probably like,
is someone that every guy wants to be.
Everyone wants to be a part of your life,
Or at least that's how I see it.
Maybe I'm wrong and I'm the only one you can see,
or maybe there's someone out there that you hope will look at you,
Not through.
But whatever you believe,
we're as blind as those people who so soundly sleep,
wool pulled over our eyes like sheep...
And you only know how I really feel
from what I say when I'm talking in my sleep.
But it's not her. It's me.
So to myself:
Watch out.
Every time there's a new step you have to look out for,
To keep you distracted from breaking down and thinking why:
Why you can't see her looking at you.
Why you just can't believe that it could be you.
Why shes the only thing you talk about in your sleep.
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