if i counted every feather left on my pillow case
i'm sure i would misplace a quill or two along the way
so i'll wait until tomorrow before sorting through this mess
i'll be mother hen picking twigs for her nest
i've seen you feel every emotion i can name
still the nuance of your heart is too complex for my brain
because my heart is much more fickle, it's either happy or it's sad
take me out to the movies i will cry, and i will laugh
i'm the girl doing as she's told
i'm your rose coloured cheeks in the cold
you're the boy with his hair combed neat
that i'm pleased to meet
will you please do up the zipper running up my dresses' back
amongst this dimly lit apartment i'm your ball-gown princess
or at least until the sunrise when i hear the rooster crow
was i pretty for a moment? was i recognizable?
i'm the girl doing as she's told
i'm your rose coloured cheeks in the cold
you're the boy with his hair combed neat
that i'm pleased to meet
and maybe i'm that girl waiting by the pier
for something to dedicate her salty tears
and maybe you're the boy wrapped up like a bow
that i never had a chance to know
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