He said my hair was like the sun,
And my freckles were like people,
picking my blueberry eyes to eat.
But just like all fruit,
It must be fresh, crisp, and produce tangy juices,
To satisfy your hunger.
If i don't live up to this,
You'll spit me out in a harsh, intense away about.
You wont listen to my heart if it's not your pace,
and you'll find a new peice if fruit.