What gives, what helps
The Intuition
I'll know, I'll know
(Oh) I won't have to be shown
The way home
And it's not about a boy
Although, although

They can lead you
Hide or reveal too

destination known
Only by the one
Whose fate is overgrown
Piecemeal could break your home
And have
love is [bad word] With only heat

They can tease you
Break [bad word] you

And in came a heatwave
merciful save
You choose, you chose
Poetry over prose

map is more unreal
(Oh) Than where you've been
Or how you feel
And it's impossible to tell
How important something was
And what you might have missed out on
And how it might have changed it all

Did I, did I
Did I, did I
Did I, did I