Hide from me everything. Sad , distant, you're there smiling.
My obsession for love will be the death of me.
In it I try to find, what the world has stolen from me.
Allowed to witness all of it. Never to bask in it.
Yes, there is no other thing I would do.
Than to be here with you, with nothing to do.
Admiring you, you're not looking.
You turn and I pretend it's nothing.
You don't have to tell me this isn't love.
Love is sick and twisted. This is not love.
I don't know what this is.
But It's better than anything else that is.
If you think these words are for love , you are mistaken. My love is already forsaken.
Love is not what I feel for you.
However "nothing" is not what I feel for you.