Fifth of November was a Saturday night,
We stood in the refrigerator light.
Dancing as we recalled the sights,
Of the moonlit ballroom in that life.
Haven't we met before?
Swear this isn't a fairytale lore.
What was it, that day you wore?
The fine line between love and gore.
Now we reach to face our fears,
As we wipe off each other's tears.
Drunk on a few shots of beer.
So are we far? Or are we near?
Our sunny records fade to black.
Ice cream and summers, what a hex.
Love was not the thing we lacked,
Yet somehow we're tangled in an endless web.
Imagine how I'd strut the halls,
A pistol in my hand as you offer me yours.
The crystal chandelier illuminates the ball,
It's impossible that we didn't fall.
Delusional as I might sound,
There must be a reason you hang around.
Standing in the most spectacular gown,
Am I the princess that you will crown?
A cold chill fills the air,
Coke or pepsi? No one cares.
This silent burden we both bear.
We don't break the silence, we don't dare.
Standing in the refrigerator light
Your face is warm, I guess that's alright.
Five centimetres, do I fight or flight?
I pull you close, tonight's the night.
