I love you. I love you so much my heart is filled with love at the sight of you. It swells and grows, like a balloon being blown up, a balloon being inflated with effort. Every puff is a part of me given into this balloon that just grows and swells, until I'm sure it will rise into the air and take me to great places or state of minds. Up in the clouds and among the stars. (Completely unafraid that the balloon will burst from beaks and pressure, completely unaware that well, I can't fly.)
Then comes the fear. I'm out of breath, the balloon's too big I can't see ahead of myself I think it's going to burstIknowit'sgoingtoburst.
So I tie the end up.
And it doesn't rise because it's not helium.
It's just plain ol' carbon dioxide,
A product of what keeps me alive.
I leave it aside because it doesn't rise because it's not helium.
It's just plain ol' carbon dioxide, a product of what keeps me alive.
It doesn't fly, it doesn't fly, it just dies.
Because it's a product of what keeps me alive.
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