Crazy Little Thing Called I
If I could cover a mile,
Each time you say my name,
And my heart jumps out from its cage,
Instinctively, like a built-in reflex perfectly coded—
It would be nothing short of an impressive distance.
To accuse you of classical conditioning,
Is not even up on the table,
Because this feeling is self-inflicted,
I programmed myself to be your lover.
Crazy little thing, isn’t she?
Every fiber of my being has yours engraved in golden letters,
You are a song I’ve carefully written and produced at the same time,
A habit I’ve formed of which I can never bring myself to break from,
A mother tongue I’ve been using since childhood,
And have understood even the most intricate and complicated words and phrases.
The bible says to have no other God before the Almighty,
But I have vowed to worship the ground you walk on,
And to devote my heart, soul, body and mind,
To you, highly sacred mon trésor,
Because you are indubitably who I live for.
The altar is in every words you utter,
So if you as ever tell me now to die,
It wouldn’t take a heartbeat for me to grab a scythe.
Crazy little thing, aren’t I?
This love is good,
This love is bad,
This love will kill me,
And from ashes, it will bring me back.
This love is worse than all my nightmares reimagined,
But so were the vivid dreams of earnest hoping,
And when it all ends, came our happily ever after.
This love will either make or break who I am,
And break me if you may,
I would be a willing victim of all your treacherous crimes.
Crazy little thing, how did I?
When I think of romance,
I think of fairy tales in faraway lands,
Those of princes and princesses,
Of ships and kingdom horses,
Of magic and believing,
Love is the most powerful thing.
Once upon a time,
I dreamt of love so pure,
It would make me love myself as well,
Because love wishes for no evil,
Love wishes for no harm,
Or pain, or suffering,
Or destruction of anything and anyone,
Yet love, great thing as it is,
Has turned into obsession,
And obsession turned into self-loathing,
Until who I am becomes who I never wanna be.
What have I done?
What exactly have I become?
Crazy little thing, maybe I am?
Once upon a time,
I dreamt of romance and fun,
And romance and fun did I get
But the plot got too much in my head,
Love swept me up so high,
I feel myself drifting, gone,
Surrendered my focus on a thing so grand,
Like Icarus flying closely to the sun,
In the end, he got burned,
Fell, melted—
Plunged, and drowned,
Still, so am I.
Crazy little thing, so stoned.
There is really no saving,
A crazy little thing like I am.