I look at his eyes,
I look at his lips.
There’s something in that face that I want;
There’s something in that face that I wish were mine.
Is the the blue depths of those eyes?
Or the plushness of those lips?
I stare like a creep shamelessly,
Taking quite a while to figure out.
It’s not the eyes, but the determination in that gaze,
It’s not the lips, but the kindness in that smile:
That I wish were mine.
That I wish were mine