And he knows they've gotta leave now,

Or else he'll lose her.

He can already see her drifting away,

The wake of strong cologne,

Thick brown hair and a husky voice.

Her heart is rising to the challenge

Of a soul deep as the ocean,

Whose tides are tugging at her sympathy.

It's not her fault.

Her heart's made of spun sugar,

And with each gentle wave,

He watches the edges begin to dissolve,

And he knows to hold on tight,

To keep her from melting away,

And becoming one with this stranger

Whose liquid eyes have taken hold of her own.

There's no use trying to change her heart -

That disposition - so prone to love,

'Cause if it weren't for that sweet willingness,

She would never have fallen for him.

His soul is not as deep, his eyes not as piercing,

But he loves this sweet-hearted girl.

Doesn't that count for something?