I'm addicted to holding hands with shadows.
Somehow the cold touch keeps me warm.
I'm addicted to sharing secrets with spirits.
Somehow the honesty numbs everything.
So tell me whether the hand on my shoulder meant
anything.
Cause I've been known to over-analyze situations.
It's a habit I doubt I'll ever break.
I often lose my sleep over it.
There are plenty fish in the sea.
But the truth is I can't swim
Or bait a rod to save my life.