I want to love you,
I want to feel the things I should,
but in a way, you're lucky.
I am suspended in midair,
i'll always love the same person, forever,
you are second, the ground i'll never touch,
i can bounce on and off you,
and you may perceive it as a game,
but i will never touch down with you,
i'll always be hanging from the sky,
a little short of heaven.

i want to be normal,
but my chest isn't fluttering,
and my eyelids aren't heavy
and the doe eyes are five thousand miles away,
in someone else's car,
in someone else's guitar playing,
i'm engaged by someone else's pale blue eyes.

it's not you i see when i spend so much time blinking,
i'm hanging off someone else's lips,
i'm seventy miles above you,
looking down and smiling.
i'll drop kisses and morsels into your mouth,
second hand from above me,
and somewhere below you, they're passed on.
it's a shame you're only second place,
i've used you to replace the number one,
and you've used me in no way nearly as similar,
as far as i can see,

but i can't see the way an eagle can,
and i'm too far to be sure anymore.