Sometimes, I don't know what I am to you. Where I stand or what Im supposed to be. Sometimes it gets hard. But there's nothing that's too hard to handle. Anything for you.
Sometimes it's frustrating to know we're in the same place but I couldn't go anywhere near you. I couldn't even smile. It's like you're looking but you don't see me. I see you with people and it's fascinating. How it's so easy for them to be with you.. to talk to you.. to laugh with you. How it's so simple for them to see you and sit beside you. It makes me smile inside, wishing I was them.
Sometimes I run out of ways to see you. How. Where. Where can we be together? Where is it safe to see you? It's all to be mastered, but Im used to it. And when were together, Im in awe. "You're with me, finally." (I say to myself.) Then you start talking about stuff. Sometimes I lose track of what you're saying. I wait till you tell me you love me.
And when you do, I think to myself: "So, he loves me."
Sometimes you flirt too much and it hurts.
Sometimes I wonder if I make you happy enough. I feel the need to go the extra mile to please you. Because I want to be good enough. Good enough, that you won't need other women. Good enough to be told Im the only one you love. Good enough. Just good enough.
But really, what am I to you?
'Cause quite frankly, you mean the world to me.. and more.
Sometimes it's frustrating to know we're in the same place but I couldn't go anywhere near you. I couldn't even smile. It's like you're looking but you don't see me. I see you with people and it's fascinating. How it's so easy for them to be with you.. to talk to you.. to laugh with you. How it's so simple for them to see you and sit beside you. It makes me smile inside, wishing I was them.
Sometimes I run out of ways to see you. How. Where. Where can we be together? Where is it safe to see you? It's all to be mastered, but Im used to it. And when were together, Im in awe. "You're with me, finally." (I say to myself.) Then you start talking about stuff. Sometimes I lose track of what you're saying. I wait till you tell me you love me.
And when you do, I think to myself: "So, he loves me."
Sometimes you flirt too much and it hurts.
Sometimes I wonder if I make you happy enough. I feel the need to go the extra mile to please you. Because I want to be good enough. Good enough, that you won't need other women. Good enough to be told Im the only one you love. Good enough. Just good enough.
But really, what am I to you?
'Cause quite frankly, you mean the world to me.. and more.
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