Maybe she won't see me.
OK,
well,
maybe she won't see me creeping past the coffee shop,
trying to be low-key.
My heart is doing drum solos, a frantic melody.
Somebody help me.
Run up.
Oh, she, she saw me.
She
smiles and gives a little wave a devastating sight.
I'm frozen like a statue in the panic morning light.
My brain is short-circuited,
there's no way to be smooth.
I'm calculating exit routes,
a truly shameful move.
My lungs forget the atmosphere,
my knees are turning weak.
There's a high-definition blush burning on my cheek.
It's a tactical disaster,
a total system freak.
Help me.
The world just melts to pixel dust whenever she decides to speak.
Speak.
Speak.
Help me.
Help me.
Help me.
Help me.
Help me.
Help me.
Help me.
Help me.
Then she laughs and suddenly the panic starts to fade.
She points an empty chair,
an invitation she has made.
The alarm bells in my head, I finally disobeyed.
A quiet thanks is all my rusty voice machine can say.
Thank you.
You're my,
my, my, my, my, my sanctuary.
My clarity.
My favorite emergency.
Thank you.
You're my, my, my, my, my, my, my lucky day.
You saved me.
You saved me.