There floats our conversation
Like clouds in our minds
We leave an open invitation

To this world we've denied

If I turn around

Would that be my fault
If I turn around
Would that be my loss


Feel the raindrops of impression
Stinging from above

What the price of this confusion
We have yet to speak of


Out of sight beyond confusion
Still I'm here defining my own truth
Paranoia by conclusion

What's the point if I am still missing you