This guy’s got a picture of you
Hanging up in the walls of his mind
A technicolor tinge she’ll throw in the mix
When you’re feeling black and white
No sign of insecurities
You do well to conceal these
But then I think that you’re not real
So you shoot me a smile
Effortless to surmise
That you’re just being ideal
My reoccurring reverie
When I’m not with her
I slip into a place where I
Don’t want to leave until
My hand is back around her side
Been orbiting the ordinary
It’s not what she does but how
She does it for me
This guy’s got it all under wraps
By a front that’s weakening by the day
You’re looking through the lenses of love
And it tends to make these versions of reality sane
And with this picture of hers
The reverie reoccurs
Are you sure you want to know if she’s real?
Cos when the symptoms persist
You’d knowingly run the risk
I’ve tried and can’t have it
Any other way
My reoccurring reverie
When I’m not with her
I slip into a place where I
Don’t want to leave until
My hand is back around her side
Been orbiting the ordinary
It’s not what she does but how
She does it for me Like the ‘x’ she puts
At the end of that text looks
Like we’re on our way.
We’re on our way.
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