Cross My Heart

I was soaring way up, up through the clouds
All by myself, avoiding the crowds
A few promises, before I'm wrapped in shrouds
that I must keep to me

I swore to myself, before I'm old
before my heart stops, and blood runs cold
before I die, and my soul is sold
that I would come back to you

I left you there, all alone
Before my problems all became known
all of my fears and hatred is thrown
so deep that you can't see

Now, cross my heart, and hope to die
And push a needle through my eye
I have some promises, and then good-bye
I never lied to you.

This thing they call love is an avenue
I knew if I held your hand, I could make it through
I feared with holding tight, my hate would imbue
and I didn't really want that

So I left, before I could lie
I knew I'd be back, before I'd die
But I really didn't understand why
it must be this thing they call love

I can end this now, saying I'm in love
is it a form of hate, or lack thereof?
Is it the reason I fly above?
I just really don't know

Now I'm old, bent, and gray
Or, at least, I feel that way
and I kept you from being my prey
so I guess you can say I won

I guess, that's how it crumbles
through my promises and mumbles
through my lies and my tumbles,
I made it back to you...

...and it's keeping me high...