First word,
Beautiful,
Now what could be wrong with that,
Nothing right?,
Well it would've been true,
If the second word wouldn't of been drug,
But it's the truth,
Cross my heart,
Hand on the bible,
Pinkie swear,
I was drunk,
On what you brought to my life,
I was jealous,
A hopeless romantic,
I looked at my friends,
And wanted what they had,
I wanted to feel loved,
By someone,
Who wasn't my family,
Or just a friend,
I wanted that intimate relationship,
The one with my soul mate,
I opened up to fast,
I was a different person,
No longer was I as cautious,
Of you,
Because I had become immune,
I thought you couldn't do anything wrong,
Anything to truly damage me,
But boy was I wrong,
In fact it was absolutely insane,
To think you wouldn't,
Because I thought slightly differently then you,
I wasn't confused about how I felt,
Unlike you,
I was so lost in you,
Addicted by the safety I felt with you,
But it was just all imagination,
A false reality,
That I wanted to be true so bad,
That I began to believe that it was real,
That's why I'd call you a beautiful drug...
