Iron Maiden has never sounded so sweet,
Watching the face of horror come alive on his shirt, at least three times a week,
Once again, drowning in the pool of his presence, much too deep.

Afraid to simply walk alone across the hallway, for my legs will become weak,
There he is! The joyous pressure of my heart leaps and leaps!
Iron Maiden has never sounded so sweet.

So resplendent within my mind: a sea of thick, brown hair, so neat in its heap,
How it spun across the air, bouncing back just perfectly, silent and bleak.
Once again, drowning in the pool of his presence, much too deep.

Megadeth, Misfits and Metallica…the names I will always remember to keep.
He, the one who loved them all; the face of horror on his shirt, image threatening to seep,
Iron Maiden has never sounded so sweet.

Why, why can’t I run away with him in a tan-colored Jeep?
Sitting in a field of grass, somewhere in England, over and over: music and sleep.
Once again, drowning in the pool of his presence, much too deep.

The sight of him in the distance, head and arms, just beginning to peep,
Disconnect the silver wire clutching to my lungs…a silent beep.
Iron Maiden has never sounded so sweet.
Once again, drowning in the pool of his presence, much too deep.