She thought she was over him But god was she wrong. The way his hand brushed against her's Made sparks fly up her arm and to her brain Golden and firey They reminded her of the sparklers she used to light on the 4th of July With her dad as a kid She's pathetic, Isn't she? His watercolor eyes are glued to another And she gets to touch his brown hair And his electric hands And not her. She needs to get over him For she'll never have him And just break her own heart By praying for something That will never happen.