One soul. One Junk Pile.

You make my brain feel like noodles.
All the lobes in my head just melt to pieces when I listen to you.
And I don't even want to form them back together after they fall apart.
I just imagine they're little arms and I gather them to wrap around you.

I just want to listen to your head,
I want to dance to the rhythm of your heart.
I'll dig deep inside of your heart
and I'll find my special spot,
the one you told me
you've kept a little piece of my soul tucked away in.

Bodies don't mean a thing to me,
because our souls are merging to one.
Connected and intertwined like a chain linked fence.
There have been holes all over our surface.
When we approach these holes though, we just go down another road
knowing we'd intertwine again, sooner or later.

Its a little strange to me
that someone can leave your life
and come back into it so inconsistently
and you can still see their heart shining,
blood red through their chest,
a light house for lost lovers.
Its guided me home.

Its a little odd, I think,
that our souls have always been one.
Just a junk pile of sorrow,
lifted sometimes by the sudden jolt of hope
we've found in each other.