You compliment my smile but it's a prison of tears: it cries inside.
And all the effort I put into looking calm, exhausts my soul, but how would you know?
It's easier for you to trust me when I say everything is fine. It's just for a night, isn't it?
And all my scars your eyes won't notice in this dark room.
And your touches won't go deep enough to reach my heart, which is where they live.
And I'm breathless, and sweating, and raving.
It could be fever, but you prefer to assume all these symptoms say something else.
I'm hot indeed, as you said a hundred times in the last two hours.
I got your hint.
You won't get burned.
But that's because you are ice.
And I see it in your eyes.
You are ice.
And that's why you didn't get burned.
But when I wake up tomorrow you won't be here anymore.
You won't risk yourself to melt.
Tomorrow you go and keep it cool.
And I'll keep dormant.
Through physics it's safe to say one ice cube can't freeze a volcano.
It won't wake it up either.
So we keep it physical.