Never touched a beer, whiskey ain't my scene
Cigarette smoke makes my lungs wanna scream
Latte art's a mystery, green tea's just a chore
Never needed a pick-me-up at four in the morn

But lately I'm wired, can't seem to unwind
Got a nervous twitch and a restless mind
Doc says I'm healthy, no chemicals to blame
Just gotta relax, but that's a losing game

'Cause I'm not an addict, but I'm addicted to you
Got a craving for your smile, a high that's something new
No withdrawal symptoms, just a constant desire
To see your face set my soul on fire

Used to sleep like a rock, silence all around
Now my brain's a jukebox, stuck on a love sound
Replaying conversations, dissecting every word
Wondering if you felt the same, every unheard

Staring at my phone, waiting for a text
Even the blinking cursor makes my heart flex
Got butterflies in my stomach, a buzzing in my head
Is this a crush or am I losing it instead?

Maybe it's just a phase, a dopamine reaction
But this feeling's so strong, it's pure satisfaction
Never thought I'd crave something this much, it's true
But honey, you're the only drug I wanna pursue

Yeah, I'm addicted to you, a love so pure
Hope you're the dealer, 'cause this feeling can't endure
Without another fix, another touch, another you
So baby, tell me, are you addicted too?

Stand on the highest pavement of the stair —
Lean on a garden urn —
Weave, weave the sunlight in your hair —
Clasp your flowers to you with a pained surprise —
Fling them to the ground and turn
With a fugitive resentment in your eyes:
But weave, weave the sunlight in your hair.

So I would have had him leave,
So I would have had her stand and grieve,
So he would have left
As the soul leaves the body torn and bruised,
As the mind deserts the body it has used.
I should find
Some way incomparably light and deft,
Some way we both should understand,
Simple and faithless as a smile and shake of the hand.

She turned away, but with the autumn weather
Compelled my imagination many days,
Many days and many hours:
Her hair over her arms and her arms full of flowers.
And I wonder how they should have been together!
I should have lost a gesture and a pose.
Sometimes these cogitations still amaze
The troubled midnight and the noon's repose.