Phone Calls Every Week At 12

I don't want to count any more days
Because as many as I've counted
I've built the bridge to your window
The only bridge I could never walk
For the fear of what's really at the end
I told you my dreams and that could mean losing them all
With my happiness, but all of my dreams are with you.
And all of my dreams are of you.
I stare at your picture every day
Wishing I was powerful, wishing I was creative,
Withing I was older to sound perverted but
At least I could drive to you
And leave this sunset behind
Because it sparks no emotions
And there's no one to watch it with.
It's just the sun, after all,
But I think you could manipulate that for me.
Make it something brutally honest.
In return, I can pet your head to sleep
Instead of what's in your head,
Trying to kill you. Trying to scratch your hands
Past their usefulness; to protect me like you wish
You could.