%
Saint Swift poses the question:
Are you a secret or an oath?
Lopsided lovers balancing out of balance lives, we tiptoe around sleeping landmines.
I deserve so much more than the 5% madness left like crumbs; trusting your promises will find and hold me.
Blind faith makes no sense.
You have the privilege of all that you know of me
And all I want is your 100%