He doesn't make your knees weak.
He's beautiful and bleak.
He has a porcelain face that cracks when he speaks.

I go to start a conversation but I, get no reply
Instead you stare like a statue as I, break down and cry


Your face is like an eagle, but your mind's like a crow.
And boy, I know you have opinions, but you don't let them show.
You're a shelf of books, without the pages.

A wealth of thoughts locked up in cages.
Locked up, locked up, locked up


And if blood runs through your veins,
Don't you suppose it's such a waste?
To be composed in such a way

Just let me in

You write me letters in a pen with no ink

And you have your own eyes but you don't dare blink.
You speak in words without a sentence,
You're the ghost that haunts me without a presence.

Without a presence, without a presence

And if blood runs through your veins,

Don't you suppose it's such a waste?
To be composed in such a way
Just let me in

Just let me in