Am I real and what do I feel
Hate is half a heart
Only I am in my arms
You were sold as something to hold
Nothing's as rude as the cold
Stupidly beautifoolish true you
Maybe madness is a heart
Maybe heaven is a habit
If I could fly i'd live in the sky
I'd come from why and obviously you do too
The very start of everything hard could be the slip of a fingertip
Writer(s): Barry Eugene White, Simon Sean Nicholas David Austin, Angela Ruth Hart
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com