A tingle ran down my spine
When she told me “I love you,”
No one had said that to me before,
The feeling felt brand new.
The days following the world changed;
The sky was bluer, and the grass, greener.
Work didn’t feel like work, and
People around me were happier.
My step had lightened quite a bit,
No more the dragging of shoes
(It irritated the hell out of my boss);
Ballads were in, and out were the blues.
Then new life started to become old.
The sky was still blue, and the grass still green,
But work felt like work, And
People around me again felt mean.
My step regained a heaviness
That wore out the soles of my shoes;
My boss started hating me again;
Ballads were out, and in were the blues.
I looked at her in a different eye,
Perhaps — you could say — a different “I”…
Shakespeare mentioned love was a smoke,
I couldn’t describe it any better.
Love has made me cough and choke,
Made me wish I hadn’t writ that letter;
The letter that welcomed her back,
Back from a self-imposed exile;
For the reality destroyed the fantasy,
Liquid gold was once again yellow bile.
Gatsby too had these issues,
A ghostly love built big and strong;
Only he had never realised it,
While I know that I’ve been wrong.
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