A thousand different ways I try to tell you.
A thousand words are born and dead
By the time our time together comes to a close.
My throat's constricted, my thoughts constipated.
I'm desperately seeking release
To my pent-up emotions, to my untold miseries.
I'm desperately looking for a way
To express, to let you know, to convey.
And when I'm finally ready to speak,
You say - "We had a great time, didn't we?"
The words die, again,
Their loss a physical pain,
Their rebirth postponed indefinitely.
Will I ever be able to deliver my message?
When will you learn that I don't love you?
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