She said I wasn't the first atheist she dated but I was the most debated
Which I hated cause it pried us apart from being sacred.
I hope you know that the hospitality that left you jaded was honesty
And honestly I hope you know that I can't possibly fake it.
I hope you know I can't make it with the pages left vacant,
So I want to tell you now on this very special occasion,
That I'm a lover and a writer,
A working, piston-pumping fire
Not wanting to consume you but to illuminate your desires.
I'm a highway driver for hire,
I'm in love with a liar but the required context it takes to make me sweat
Is nothing sort of humiliation of a normally convex
Connection I'm stuck here lacking.
I'm sweating and unpacking
And I know you're too busy acting
But backing to the start to restart when we were apart
Is as smart as parking your car in a ghetto lot when it is dark.
Love is a crazy word, and I'm not close to using it,
But with this lost hope, I'm one step closer to losing it.
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