The Root of 2
I just want to own you, make you mine forever more.
And through it all I should have learned, and through it all I should be stronger.
But all I know is I got burned, and I can't take the questions any longer.
Love is equal to the square root of two, irrational, never ending,
and contrary to every proven theory past or pending.
How do we make sense of senseless things?
How do we soothe these scrapes and stings?
So afraid, and too tired for another stab at love.
I am eternally waiting, for that fateful shove,
bringing the questionably existent Ms. Right,
before my eyes, but what if it happened last night?
Is the one I want the one I really need?
I give myself too much advice I never heed.
Should we just listen to these baser desires?
Even though they burn us up like blazing fires.
All that's certain is the night is coming to an end.
All eyes in this dusty bar search the room for a friend.
Into the room, kill the lights, and lock the door.
For one last time, let's settle the score.