MUSIC FOR SALE

That song I sung and you harmonised,
But then I sung it in a whole other key.
Your voice was an echo of desire,
But I ignored the tune you'd bring,
And missed the song that could've been.

The late night talking where we aspired,
And you would listen to what I'd say.
Your eyes would glitter reflecting the fire,
But I would laugh, stuck in my own mire,
And walk away without you being seen.

It's a wonder that I failed so much,
And was so full of my own stuff.
I didn't get you almost ever,
But you failed me almost never.

That time when on canvas we'd paint,
Your brush strokes would underline mine.
But I would always make the image,
Only about my self-obsessed homage,
And didn't blend into your graceful art.

All the time you would be my saint,
When I'd talk through all my own time.
But when you'd need your own sage,
I'd rarely turn up to engage.
When you were hurt I'd fail to listen.

It's a wonder that I failed so much,
And was so full of my own stuff.
I didn't get you almost ever,
But you failed me almost never.

I look across, at you now,
Knowing that I need you so.
No light is brighter than yours,
No star could higher soar.
I see you now, all the beauty in your soul,
I shudder to have ever treated you so cold.

It's a wonder that I failed so much,
And was so full of my own stuff.
I didn't get you almost ever,
But you failed me almost never.

I promise how, from now on,
My eyes are open only to you.
To think I could have lost the one,
Whom I almost never knew.

It's a wonder that I failed so much,
When I was so full of my stuff.
But now I'll miss you almost never,
Because I want to be with you, forever.