Those shoulders , made me paper
Like a beautiful flower and a bee
Why did it have to be me
Isn't that the cliche of attraction
Natures prerogative
Something in the way he walks
You should see him when he talks
We got to talking , and couldn't stop
We talked of everything and of nothing
Had I known the end , but at present
A present I liked him
He made me laugh
Made me nervous
Made me swallow words
It was a terrible paradox
Even in a matatu , I'd wonder
If I'd see Mr. Mysterious , I'd ponder
When around him I'd get into a daze
As one completely lost in a maze
I was not thinking clearly , I was in a haze
Those shoulders , would later
Be the beginning and the end
Of the meaning of a heart break
Which time would eventually heal
Slowly and slowly , the pain peeled
Black shirt , wide shoulders
I did see , once again
Standing like huge boulders
Those shoulders.
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