I think I'll go by a different name today
Cause I've met you for the first time again
You can call me well-versed, honey
But writers don't read
I'll be here waiting, bound by the things we came to be
Maybe I can learn how to fly from falling
Your press can heal me; your kiss can steal my sense
It's not even worth explaining how your words drop like honey from the air
It wouldn't be too smart to feel like that anymore