I see you, with whatever half awake, sleep drifting irises, I see you.
Dusted in the shelves of unread books, I see you and I know you,
They will never know you but I do, in ways you are afraid.
I see you, with whatever half awake, sleep drifting irises, I see you.
Dusted in the shelves of unread books, I see you and I know you,
They will never know you but I do, in ways you are afraid.