Questions for the Waves
I wonder if it can see me,
from underneath the waves.
Can it hear the lies I tell it?
Will it keep them in its grave?
And when I lay to sleep at night,
does it have secrets of its own?
Is there a love beneath the surface,
only dreamt and never known?
Will You Still Love Me After Midnight?
Will you still love me after midnight?
I toss and turn (I’ve heard I snore).
Will you still want to hold me tight?
Will you want me anymore?
And will you love me in the morning,
if you make it through the night?
I fear I should give you warning,
before the sun is bright.
I won’t wake up looking pretty.
It’s nothing like the shows.
I know it’s vain and petty,
but this is something you should know.
Because I’ll love you after midnight,
even though you snore.
And when you hold me tight,
I’ll love you even more.
Do you hear me when I whisper
what I’ll never say out loud?
When I’m embarrassed and ashamed,
do you promise you’ll stay proud?
And when I’m at my lowest
and I can’t look in the mirror,
will you find all my self-pity?
Will you make it disappear?
When I’m hurt and I’m immobile,
and I’m sick in years to come,
will you promise to not stop smiling?
Will you always keep me young?