I do not care what words you use. I do not care the thoughts that choose. I care for what you felt right then. I care for what you felt, not spent. For feelings that you know you felt, Are feelings that you know you felt. And there, my Sam, wherein's the gap. Between your hearts, beneath your cap. The space between the you, the me. The shape in laid your soul's paintings. There is indeed a word for it. There is, you see, a rule—the bit. And nay the word I shan't be saying. For now the time is all for playing. Not one, not two, not dainty blue. The leg, the shelf, the magic screw. Do speak your heart, the proudestly. Behold your touch, triumpheting. No no I do—care what you say. It's just that words can run away. Remember Sam, the story told. The leg that breaks the heart that tolls.
