I usually stand as the girl with no name,
No presence, no opinion, they allow me to fade
Away into the background whilst I look upon
The figures around me. I'll sit there and long
To be more than a collegue, acquaintance, a ghost.
And wish I could be just that little bit closer
To one or another, whoever it is
That drives me to wake up and get up and live
Alongside and among all these people I see,
Despite how superior they are against me.
But she, she is different, she notices me.
And she speaks more than words, regardless of being
A high rank among those who fail to take note,
Or who joke at the expense of different folk.
She defies the conventions and breaks all the laws
For the poem she writes and the names she has for me
Are dearer to me, more than anything else
In the world, but excepting her own gracious self.
And I'll tie myself up into knots about love
And I'll scream and I'll dream and I'll cry about love
When the love that I have will but be my demise
When I let myself over the edge one more time.
But what if it works this time? What if it's real?
Then no-one would really know quite how I feel.
Vicious circle again, a 'Catch Twenty-Two'.
For the one thing that drives me to do it is true
To both sides of the argument. So now it depends
On which side is the stronger: Continue? Or end.