Reel

This is a feeling unlike any Like poison in a fruit of scent, With memories a tad too many, All too bittersweet to give vent Like poison in a fruit of scent, Thoughts of school years pass by All too bittersweet to give vent, Or to let go without a cry Thoughts of school years pass by, A girl refuses to give up, Or to let go without a cry, The chances to be tuned up A girl refuses to give up, She loses, all too soon, The chances to be tuned up, Her fate's in a cocoon She loses, all too soon, Till today, for her mind's elsewhere Her fate's in a cocoon, She feels too few minutes to spare Till today, for her mind's elsewhere, The moments of the now flit She feels too few minutes to spare And nostalgia, they call it The moments of the now flit, With memories a tad too many, And nostalgia, they call it, This is a feeling unlike any