Should I send him all my love, remind him what I'm dreaming of?

Remind me what I'm hiding from, and all the ways I still succumb?

And prove that this is far from done, and simply has barely begun?

This road that daunts us both is long, and I can barely hear his song

Anymore from far and gone, but he still sings to me at dawn.

Does he know I drink him all, and plod in pseudo secret call?

We both know our half-assed spies, but maybe knowing comes with lies,

And love is more the sharper kind: I know our freedom's undefined.

--Give all my heart to run to him! My love to all-consume--would dim.

And I knew of this feeling then, in our first days come again.

I knew if I let him in, time would take this separate spin,

Yet knowingly I gave my blood...not nothing now? But blooms my bud?