People wish and wash away,
fading even when it’s day,
before they even get to say
“I love you.”

In my dreams is where I’m kept,
It’s safer there, where I’ve not wept,
To move along, you can’t have slept;
but I am not like that.

Those who steal need to pay,
those who die need to stay,
those who cry need to say
“I’m lonely.”

I did not entirely wash away,
I’ve stole some looks, but now I’ll pay,
and finely I’ll get the chance to say
“I love you.”