When you were young, you stopped
on the sidewalk, and you can't know how sorry
I am for not being there too.
I'm not ready and I'm too small,

But I can tell that you'll always
be the only one for me—

And I'm sorry again, but where am I
going with this?
'Cause if I don't have you or
someone else with your "interest" soon,
I'm going to explode, and I'm afraid
of taking you with me.

It really is killing me, so what
is it, pray tell,
with me and people I can't have?