Everyday, I imagine a future where I can be with you.
In my hand is a pen that will write a poem of me and you
The ink flows down into a dark puddle
Just move your hand - write the way into his heart!
But in this world of infinite choices
What will it take just to find that special day?
Does my pen only write bitter words for those who are dear to me?
Is it love if I take you, or is it love if I set you free?
The ink flows down into a dark puddle
How can I write love into reality?
If I can't hear the sound of your heartbeat
What do you call love in your reality?
And in your reality, if I don't know how to love you
I'll leave you be