At last you drop your guard
And run your fingers through my hair
Across the threshold of your privacy
I rush side to side
To catch both of your eyes
I stretch authenticity to far fetched glory
Who cares what they teach of humbleness
But the glory overturns
When you lean against my chest
And the crime will be too low to be ignored
Ignore the fact that I'm utterly out of touch
At least accept these sad remains
Fleece them from this frame
Adorn your nagging simplicity
With far fetched glory
Who cares what they teach of humbleness
So you stand there
Without glamour
Where else can you reach but to
Bastard tactics