You always talked good about me.
I remember, when I cut my hair in 7th grade, I hated it with my whole heart,
But I knew you were too good for me,
So I asked you what do you think about it, knowing you'll say "it looks good on you" and so you did.

But 'til we finished school,
You were just a friend to me,
Still you were the first person I shared my new hair with,
So you really were just a good friend to me?

Then at the start of 8th grade,
One time you crossed our fingers together and you started play with my hand,
I felt something, something went through my body, it were shivers.
Then I thought, something is wrong with me,
Maybe...