She is a wildflower, blooming from a landmine
A Summer night on the precipice of mankind
Words are on my tongue, taken captive by my cowardice
Her radiance glows, while my inaction leaves me powerless
She is the guarded hope, that fleeting one percent
I'm the other ninety-nine, that gnawing doubt is subsequent
The ticking seconds are a treasure to be taken granted
The tides have turned and now the crashing waves have left me stranded
She is the Autumn moon, there is fire in her eyes
And to tell the truth, I'm just a liar in disguise
She is a solar flare, when I warrant half a glance
The rest is an eclipse, and I'd tell her if I had the chance
