You're the boy who makes me feel.
You're the truth that I must steal.
You're the dream that is so real.
You're my baby, dangerous still.
You're all these things and more...
I'm your private killing gun.
I'm the truth from which you run.
I'm the face you can't forget.
I'm the bullet to your head.
I'm not all these things at all.
10.05.1998