Every day, I imagine a future where I can be with you,
In my hand is a pen that will write a poem of me and you,
The ink flows down into a dark puddle
Just move your hand, write the way into his heart,
But in this world of infinite choices
What will it take just to find that special day?
What will it take just to find that special day?
If I can’t hear the sound of your heartbeat,
What do you call love in your reality?
And in your reality, if I don’t know how to love you,
I’ll leave you be.