I Wanna Hold Your Hand*

I've got this old book with love on its pages

It beckons to me from its shelf. 

Tones that once echoed so loudly in reading:

Stories of dying to self.

I've got a pen that spills without permission,

My say is quiet and kept

Much like my chance of restraining this notion

I stand where devotion once stepped.

Truthfully, I've never moved from this spot

It's just that the scenery changed

I hope the world spins a little bit faster

So all this can be rearranged.

I hold a journey in one of my hands,

The other holds tight to this dream.

The reason my destiny's out of my reach

Is that your hand must be in-between.