she said I could be her windmill and she could be my wind
if the energy that I put out was less than she put in
so I figured, what the hell? this is a roundabout bargain.
‘cause all I really wanted was for my three blades to spin.
then time went by without a sign of wind or whistle through the pines
and somehow I convinced myself that it was not her fault, but mine
and everyone who needed me was so dissatisfied.
they left me in the field, stared up at the sky
and said,
“why do you mock us, sun? we are stardust.
why do you haunt us past? you’re disastrous.”
she said I could be her candle and she could be my flame
but I was sick and tired of her metaphors and games
besides, all the girls I’d known before were just about the same
I'd show a sign of weakness and they'd send me on my way.
but I’d salvage just one lesson from the wreckage of the past:
that I must not be worthy of the kind of love that lasts.
and I’d settle once again to be a mill without the wind
but this time it will be different, I know my blades will spin
either
clockwise or counter and I’ll know that I’ve found her
and if she deserts me then she doesn’t deserve to be happy.
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