You catch me just before I fall,
and I’m sliding down against your body
in slow motion.
Who said love’s a bird?
Who said it’s a song to be heard?
I say it’s an endless ocean.
I feel your hand on the back of my head,
your fingers run through my hair,
and I should be glad,
but instead
I fear
this might not be real.
If the roads split,
when the roads split,
l will ask you for one last thing –
Exist in my fantasies.
Please, exist in my fantasies.