You think I don't know what's
I know you: you're scheming.
You're working out how long you'll have to stay
You're figuring out how to let me go.
Do you think you
can hide inside your mind?
You don't trust
You don't trust anyone.
You think this
You're going to try your darndest to
give me reason to leave.
But I won't.
I can hear your thoughts too
(but something tells me they're mine).
Something whispers of devils, and fatalistism,
and something tells me to let go.