The scenery means nothing to me tonight;
A crumpled piece of paper, 
And every backdrop is a child’s drawing when you’re in the room.

My words are upon the floor
They writhe in their inadequacy, 
And I would blush
But your eyes just wash the blood from my face. 

The breaths come out jagged,
If they come out at all,
And every word is caught in my throat.
The sun just curled up and died,
The stars just fell from the skies.
Every note upon my desk just paled, and every second I spent drafting, again and again,
Not one word can do you justice.

Strings, attached to my body every morning;
The second dawn arrives at my doormat, I am puppeteered to scream your legacy
Because your face is burnt into the backs of my eyes, and nothing could be more beautiful.

But tonight I’ve put on my suit
Tonight I’ve put on my smile
Tonight I’ve practiced my words, my words,
Tonight’s the night I make you mine.

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