tell me your story and I just might tell you mine
not the watered down version, either
("I wasn't myself, but now everything's fine!")
I could talk, I could listen, or neither
but I have secrets on the tip of my tongue
and your eyes tell me you do as well
there are stories in me that want to be sung
when you look in my eyes, could you tell?
see, I twist my rings too much
am afraid to be touched
and can live on a latte and a prayer
my thoughts are reckless and free
but they're locked with no key
except your curiosity, if only you'd care
so let's sit for awhile til our words form a pile
right between us, perfectly round
our stories no longer separate, all our lost thoughts now found
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