John Michael

This is hidden love, something that we use to play running up and down the stairs, kisses down the porch.

Hadn't we spoke, settled all the basic terms and figure out the limit age for this love to stop.

I wish I could afford your stupid charm, your stupid voice.

This clumsy love, something that we cannot race,

confusion is a burning chest competing for the crown.

Hadn't we spoke, oh, for this love to stop...

I wish I could afford your stupid charm, your stupid voice.

I wish I could afford your stupid charm, your stupid voice.