In life, your embodiment compliments your thoughts,
And I'm caught with imagination looking from within.
Thinking of the words that express this elevation.
My heart quickly pacing.
My mind truly racing.
You leave me breathless.
My testaments turned into flattery.
My pen and pad notes every word I keep inside of me.
Documented by this journalist, unearthing this artistic bliss.
A combination words and rhythmic hits.
We move like a chess game, calculating every step.
Until there's nothing left.
Until every piece is swept.
Conversations hold me speechless, so I'm dying for the next.
Emotions run deeper; situation's too complex.
Relation vex.
I should keep this to myself.
This is my ode to you, but I know we can't connect.
What happens when I refuse to let this slide?
I'm done with all of the, "She keeps passing me by."
Once again, I'm left with the same question.
You and I, aren't you and I; I guess it ain't destined.
But I keep stressing,
Because your words always linger.
My ears anticipate the day your lips softly whispers...
Sometimes, you've been running through my dome.
Sometimes, sitting here alone.
Second verse has begun, but still hasn't moved on.
Still thinking about the queen that colonized my dome.
Silly phone conversations;
An illustration of you and when we go I have a slight hesitation.
Frustrated I escaped from this world with your words.
A depiction of life, unrehearsed; a non fiction.
The sweetest addiction is our lips causing friction.
Every time it crosses my mind, I'm lost in translation.
Though I try to make moves,
I put feelings aside because I know that I can never get inside.
So I lie and tell you, "I'm just here to be friends,"
But in the deep end,
I pray for your commitment before this beat ends.
I hope you listen because sometimes I sit and wonder...
What if we...
No...
Where was I?
I keep travelling with thoughts, contemplating of you.
Left with enigmas; hoping to solve a few.
But if it's true,
Then I guess I have to settle for being the man in the middle,
Who's unseen and unessential.
I suppose that I keep this to myself,
But I really wish you'd come to me and say....
Sometimes, you've been running through my dome.
Sometimes, sitting here alone.
And I'm caught with imagination looking from within.
Thinking of the words that express this elevation.
My heart quickly pacing.
My mind truly racing.
You leave me breathless.
My testaments turned into flattery.
My pen and pad notes every word I keep inside of me.
Documented by this journalist, unearthing this artistic bliss.
A combination words and rhythmic hits.
We move like a chess game, calculating every step.
Until there's nothing left.
Until every piece is swept.
Conversations hold me speechless, so I'm dying for the next.
Emotions run deeper; situation's too complex.
Relation vex.
I should keep this to myself.
This is my ode to you, but I know we can't connect.
What happens when I refuse to let this slide?
I'm done with all of the, "She keeps passing me by."
Once again, I'm left with the same question.
You and I, aren't you and I; I guess it ain't destined.
But I keep stressing,
Because your words always linger.
My ears anticipate the day your lips softly whispers...
Sometimes, you've been running through my dome.
Sometimes, sitting here alone.
Second verse has begun, but still hasn't moved on.
Still thinking about the queen that colonized my dome.
Silly phone conversations;
An illustration of you and when we go I have a slight hesitation.
Frustrated I escaped from this world with your words.
A depiction of life, unrehearsed; a non fiction.
The sweetest addiction is our lips causing friction.
Every time it crosses my mind, I'm lost in translation.
Though I try to make moves,
I put feelings aside because I know that I can never get inside.
So I lie and tell you, "I'm just here to be friends,"
But in the deep end,
I pray for your commitment before this beat ends.
I hope you listen because sometimes I sit and wonder...
What if we...
No...
Where was I?
I keep travelling with thoughts, contemplating of you.
Left with enigmas; hoping to solve a few.
But if it's true,
Then I guess I have to settle for being the man in the middle,
Who's unseen and unessential.
I suppose that I keep this to myself,
But I really wish you'd come to me and say....
Sometimes, you've been running through my dome.
Sometimes, sitting here alone.