There floats our conversation

Like clouds in our minds

We leave an open invitation

To this world we've denied



If I turn around

Would that be my fault

If I turn around

Would that be my loss



Feel the raindrops of impression

Stinging from above

What the price of this confusion

We have yet to speak of



Out of sight beyond confusion

Still I'm here defining my own truth

Paranoia by conclusion

What's the point if I am still missing you