Always I end up all busted up and bruised,
Cuts and ugly bumps all over me, but I never feel used.
This always happens after we both depart,
Yet the suffering is nothing compared to the pain in my heart.
For I live in a world, where I have blessedly touched,
Something that is sacrilegious and forbidden, to want this much.
And it shreds me into little pieces all over inside,
Yet I want it so much, there are nights I have cried.

I?ll never tell what it is I want from you?
I?ll never tell about the emotions I forcefully subdued?
I?ll never tell that which is true?
Because I refuse to make your life so complicated,
Because I?ll never admit you make me so elated,
I?ll never make known the sorrow you suppress and sedated.
And I?ll never, ever tell what it is I want from you,
I?ll never tell about the emotions that start to brew?
Just when I decide to dote upon you...

After the dream disappeared and left me all alone,
The dream of the dream had died and now nothing was known.
I continued to bridle the cold pain deep within,
For it was as precious to me, as love had ever been.
And whilst I cradled the corpse of that beloved, dead thing,
After many passing months came a blazing moonlit spring.
Now it looked so dead in my arms, but it was trying so hard to persevere,
I could only shed black tears, because suddenly life was trying to be sincere.

I?ll still never tell what it is I want from you?
I?ll still never tell about the emotions I forcefully subdued?
I?ll still never tell that which is true?
Because I can barely contain this feeling we?ve created,
Because these emotions don?t wish to be continuously sedated.
Perhaps what transpired was merely fated,
But I?ll still never, ever tell what it is I want from you,
I?ll still never tell about the emotions that start to brew?
Just when I decide to glance at you...

I try my very hardest to nurture the nearly dead thing to life,
And to protect it from the callous winds of destruction and strife.
If it were to fall under and die once more, would I be able to cope,
Hesitantly, I begin to replant this little seedling of my dead hope.
A week passes by and it barely has the strength to bloom,
And I felt a forgotten caress across my face, as I stood over my tomb.
My weakness consumed me once, long ago during a stormy night,
Perhaps I will return to your embrace that once cradled me so tight?

Ask, and I?ll tell you what it is I want from you?
Ask, and I?ll tell about the emotions I forcefully subdued?
Ask, and I?ll tell that which is only true.
Grant me the ability to show you how I feel,
And I shall attempt to make life more than surreal.
No matter how deep the wound, it shall attempt to heal,
You told me this, so speak so I may know what it is you want from me,
Merely ask and I will even tell you about the emotions that brew?
Just when I decide to dedicate my heart to loving only you?