If you really knew me, you would know the parts of me buried so deep that I don’t even remember that they’re there
Like a water witcher waving your poplar wand, eyes closed and everything else open, you call me by truer names
Because you hold the knowing of a secret. That everyone really does try their best.
Only my best, like a borrowed tuxedo, is really someone else’s and there’s no way in this vast department store that I’ll ever find my way to mine, without the way you see me