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Would it matter if I let you live your life but you won't let me live mine? What are we? —a confusion of sorts— nobody could tell us what to feel or who to love
But would it matter if I let you have your way with me but you expect me to fit the mold you set out of your expectations in what love was supposed to be What are we, love? —a blur in the vast labels of sorts— nobody could tell us what to do if we feel trapped in this choice we made out of a misunderstanding of our hearts' cries
Would it matter if I let you throw words at me but when I say them back, you won't hear it? What are we? —a distraction of sorts— nobody could tell us how to fix these growing gaps we thought we could cross even though we're bound to fail from the start
Would it matter, now, love if I let you change me against my will but you wouldn't change when I needed you to? What are we? —a chokehold in a vast sea of defenses— nobody could tell us how to survive a crash after letting ourselves fall into a chasm without a saving grace
Would it matter, love if I let you love me the way I don't need to be loved?
