Trapped in the night,
With nothing but his fright,
The little man,
He cries,
As he contemplates the lies.
The world around him spins,
As he does not know his sins,
Sink deep into the earth,
As he forgets just what he's worth.
He acknowledges his love,
For someone he can't have.
He cannot find the glove,
Of happinesses hidden hand.
He's falling for her hard,
Like damond emerald,
She's slipping through his hands,
And into foriegn lands.
His love of life,
It fades,
As strange feelings,
Commit large raids,
Against the common sense he holds,
His resolves, it falls and folds.
Then out of the pitch black,
The one he knows he lacks,
Appears holding a lamp,
Saying, "I would like to make a camp,
And maybe it will grow,
If we simply follow flow,
And maybe, hey who knows?
We could always build a home."
He tells her that he loves her,
Withdrawing just as such,
He knows she may not feel it to,
As he feels she is his crutch.
No, he's not the rebound,
That much he see's clear.
But he might end up a dead hound,
Because loving involves fear.
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