On the mountaintop i fed you with the sunlight that I managed to grasp.
Only you could make me sullen while we were at the top.
Why, I knew that we weren't meant to be and i still hoped
'cause you're the best of me.
But you make me hate all other aspects of me.
I just wonder if we were ever even supposed to believe that this
melancholic feeling would melt like ice cream,
emerging from your bottom lip, 'cause it never will.
'Cause, apart from ice cream you hate the cold taste
of me on your lips.
'Cause you prefer fast summer heated hearts.
'Cause we-with every breath
get farther and farther apart.