Do you think about me like I think about you?
I really do sit here - thinking about that often.
As I look towards the ceiling, I ask myself - I wonder if I’m on your mind the same way you’re in mine.
It’s criminal really.
The way you live in my head.
It shouldn’t be allowed, but I won’t pretend like I didn’t eagerly give you the key.
I just wish I wasn’t locked out of yours.
I cant see you.
Who’s inside that home with you?
Is that why you lock me out?
You’re always welcomed in mine.
What does that say about me.
I wonder sometimes.
Do you think about me like I think about you?
© CMA