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i won't correct you, though you're wrongthe look on my face is devastation found at homeand the fire always seems so large when your bones are coldi would lend you my jacket, but i am also alonethe shivers run down our connecting spines and puddles fall from a clock's little hand in timebut how do i,how do i,how do i make you feel special? to turn my (?) and flee would seem so niceto place a mask over these eyesif the world was flat and i could see it's full effectthen i would have stared you down and lied about how i felt and the symbols fall onto the floornow i'm ashamed for having told youwhy can't i,why couldn't i,why can't i make you feel special? From Letras Mania