14 by Paula Cole
Your eyes they conjure up those Cliffs of Moher,
Far away and not listening anymore,
Dreaming of life on another shore,
Not here, not now, with me, the bore.
So I stop talking and fade to bleak,
Feeling insignifi cant, atrophied and weak.
Even though it's not who I know myself to be,
The Queen, the Confi dence,
But I was 14 with my passion,
And 15 with my best.
16 with my ego,
And zero with the rest.
My heart is a P.O.W. tangled in my chest,
I don't know how to communicate in a cardiac arrest.
Your eyes they drown me in your sadness.
Your words they bring hurricanes.
Braving Shakespearean tempest,
The Mighty Tiger,
I think I found the one,
Silent suffering inside.
The one who got away,
I was too dangerous to hide.
So I stop talking, baby, cause you always want me to shut up.
Take the center stage meanwhile I become your trusted, silent prop.
So take good care, this mighty woman's ready to explode,
Fire here below the surface of my volcano.