Sometimes you see him at the book store, and you pay for the manga in his hand.

Sometimes you notice him sitting all alone, and you take the seat next to him.

Sometimes you kiss his hand playfully, and you call him your little prince.

Sometimes you ask him on dates, and you tell him you're going to pay the bill.

So you'll get closer and closer, obsessed by his dexerity and smile.

Because he's got you wrapped around his finger.

And there's nothing you can do about it.

.x.

You tease him about his lean, bony body, and he claims you're skinnier.

You tease him about his enchanting appearance, and he tells you that you're more handsome.

You tease him about his past history with men, and he spits out an unbelieveable secret.

You tease him about his virginity, and he flushes a deep red.

So you'll drag him into bed, telling him how much you love him.

Because he's got you wrapped around his finger.

And there's nothing you can do about it.

.x.

Listening to his soft whimpers, you tell him that it will hurt.

Listening to his breathless gasps, you tell him not to be ashamed.

Listening to his hisses, you tell him that he can keep holding onto you.

Listening to his deafening moans, you tell him that you want him more than ever.

So you'll thrust into him for hours, because that's what he demands for you to do.

Because he's got you wrapped around his finger.

And there's nothing you can do about it.

.x.

You take him to the coffee shop on the corner every morning, and now you've got him addicted to the stuff.

You take him across the street, holding his delicate hand in your own and smiling down upon him.

You take him to the city park, and your eyes light up when he chases after a duck.

You take him into your arms, telling him to never ever leave you.

So you'll sit there day after day, kissing him until midnight.

Because he's got you wrapped around his finger.

And there's nothing you can do about it.

.x.

Here comes his brother toward you, and you try to avoid eye contact.

Here comes Sora, and you can't help but stare at his gorgeous face.

Here comes your impulse, and you ask him to stay while your boyfriend is away.

Here comes his reply, and you're too lustful to see anything wrong with it.

So you'll bring him home, and there your honesty will shatter.

Because he's got you wrapped around his finger.

And there's nothing you can do about it.

.x.

You lie about who's your bed, and you kiss the blonde to shut him up.

You lie about the sex, and you throw the sheets into the washer.

You lie about only being his, and you make love to him right there.

You lie about being faithful, and you let him believe you.

So you'll be chained, and you won't let him know.

Because he's got you wrapped around his finger.

And there's nothing you can do about it.

.x.

And then he sees the stained sheets, and you are at a loss for words.

And then he backs away, and you find yourself trying to explain.

And then he shakes himself away from you, and you reach out and slap him.

And then he stares at you blankly, and you begin to break apart.

So you'll ask for forgiveness at his feet, and he won't take one word of it.

Because he's got you wrapped around his finger.

And there's nothing you can do about it.

.x.

You watch him stare down at you, his eyes swimming with mistrust.

You watch him back into the wall, his wrist held by your hand.

You watch him run out the door, throwing your arm off of his.

You watch him stand at the end of the driveway, screaming that he doesn't love you.

So you'll look like an idiot, a kicked puppy for all the neighbors to see.

Because he's got you wrapped around his finger.

And there's nothing you can do about it.

.x.

He moves out of your house the very next day, and all you can do is watch him.

He moves out to his brother's house, and all you can do is beg him to return.

He moves out from your reach, and all you can do is blame yourself.

He moves out of your life, and it completely tears the wall within you.

So you'll beat yourself mentally and stab yourself physically.

Because he's got you wrapped around his finger.

And there's nothing you can do about it.

.x.

You stand in front of his door, hesistating before knocking.

You stand in front of his beautiful face, the door comes slamming back at you.

You stand in the rain, waiting for him to pass by his window.

You stand with your hands in your pockets, watching as he closes the blinds.

So you'll carry on home, going to try again the next day.

Because he's got you wrapped around his finger.

And there's nothing you can do about it.

.x.

Lying on the bathroom floor, you cut deeper into yourself.

Lying in your pathetic tears, you sob endlessly at the ceiling.

Lying in your web of self hate, you want to see him one last time.

Lying in your thoughts, you want him to see you one last time.

So you'll grab the gun, because you can't live without him.

Because he's got you wrapped around his finger.

And there's nothing you can do about it.

.x.

You run to his house, and you enter unannounced.

You won't put down the gun, and he won't calm down.

You want to tell him you're sorry, but all that comes out is a farewell.

You raise the gun to your head, but he jumps on you much faster.

So you'll try to shoot yourself, and in the end you'll only shoot him.

Because he's got you wrapped around his finger.

And there's nothing you can do about it.

.x.

Still you stare at his closed eyes, wanting to see them once more.

Still you kiss his dried lips, sweeter than anything you've ever tasted.

Still you smell his familiar scent, nuzzling your nose into his chest.

Still you hear his laughs in the distance, and the moans in within your heart.

So you'll call the police, and tell them whatever lie you can come up with.

Because he's got you wrapped around his finger.

And there's nothing you can do about it.

.x.

You don't lament his death at his funeral, blankly staring down at his coffin.

You don't talk to anyone else, because you know that they all know.

You don't say you're sorry, placing the heartless bouquet in front of his tomb.

You don't want to have him on your mind anymore, torturing you like this forever.

So you'll run as far as you can, pulling away from him.

Because he's got you wrapped around his finger.

And there's nothing you can do about it.

.x.

As you lay in your bed, doing your dirty work with someone else.

As you groan from pleasure, still rubbing skin with his own brother.

As you gaze into his royal blue eyes, guilt comes rushing back.

As you sweat and so does he, kissing and nibbling every inch you can touch.

So you'll freeze on top of him, running your fingers through that imaginary sandy blonde hair.

Because he's got you wrapped around his finger.

And there's nothing you can do about it.

.x.

You step into the coffee shop, and there he is behind the counter.

You step across the street, and there he is driving past you.

You step into the park, and there he is feeding the ducks.

You step into the cemetary, and there he is under the dirt.

So you'll seem him everywhere, and you know you can't stop it.

Because he's got you wrapped around his finger.

And there's nothing you can do about it.

.x.

No matter how much you shout, no matter how much you yell.

No matter how much you whisper, no matter how much you plead.

No matter how much you cry, no matter how much you beg.

No matter how much you scream, he's not coming back now.

So now you'll just waste away, dying at the foot of his grave.

Because he's got you wrapped around his finger.

And there's nothing you can do about it.