If desire’s a flame, then I’m a wildfire

If longing’s a spark, then I’m a pyre

If I’m a bee, you’re my flower

If I’m a tyrant, you are power

But if the first two are true, I’ll burnout

And if the third is real, I’m in a drought

Yet if the last is genuine, then I’m out

Out of luck, because I’ll never have you

Out of luck, because you don’t love me too