I used to write about just you.
Your eyes are black, you said it's blue.
I like to be the one you see
In life that's only fantasy.
I used to know your life a lot
And thinking just: I care, why not?
I like our dances in the air
With any touching, i am not dare.
I used to be the ghost of past,
I hope that talks are not our last.
I like your eyes, your hands, your hair.
I hope I won't be burned in hell.
I used to be just mad and fast,
Enjoying getting all your trust.
I like to curse, to scream, but swear:
You got no things i can't repair.