I feel OK. I feel scared. I feel terrified.

   
I said I'd be here  
and I said I'd stay  
like caged birds.  
   
As this flier, I sell my soul.  
As this flier, I hold my face in the shadow,  
I mask myself  
in lies  
I tell to save face and time and emotional pain.  
   
My years are slipping  
and I creep on, cruelly, seeking out treason,  
treachery, a loophole  
and I don't want to. I am slipping from me,  
again. My sane and clean mind is stained  
with this ordeal.  
   
I have nothing without him here and    
yet I have nothing when he is here, so strongly rooted. This feels more like heartbreak than anything    
I have known.  
   
Blossom grows but not from me,  
blossom grows but it won't from me here,  
what would my Grandfather say?  
What would my Grandmother do?  
   
Can I not take him, pick him up,    
stretch him out, break him down,
own the passion he feels
for this wicked town,
move him on?    
Can I learn how to cope here but
why am I having to cope? That's what you get
when you fall in love with an
outsider and love them
so terribly you want them to feel at home.  
   
As this flier, I've sold my grace.  
In this façade I hold my face in his shadow.  
and I can't tell him  
and I can't disappoint.  
He must be ever satisfied.  
And I am ever    
pre-ssur-ised.  
   
And I won't tell him,  
I won't disappoint.  
I could be perfect  
and I could be loved.  
   
Yes, he spins on his own axis.  
He writes his book of his own events.  
I may follow or I may fall behind.