Sometimes I would know something to be true
But dare not put into words.
Until someone with eyes of aged brandy
Speaking with a voice world weary
From loss of novelty.
Finds you as though a diamond under rough
Gently enticing you to come out of the dark
To come and give away your own voice
And the world can be glad for it
Thus, you armed with vexation
Stepping onto the threshold to the outside
Holding breath, grip tightening
Blood ice-cold in your veins
Had just finally let the sun
Caress your face
In a reuniting embrace.