Who is the man that I’m sitting here writing about late at night with poetic lyrics, the man who is standing all by himself and the man with the quiet spirit? The man that I see who is passing by me leaves a question mark on my face, because he really does have me curious, but keeping my thoughts in a secret place. He will never know that I am watching, and he will never know what I can see, he will never know what I am hoping, because it just may not ever be. Though my mind may be constantly roaming, like the waves that are in the sea, he might not be the man that’s for me, but a withered and a fruitless tree. I may never know what will happen, because this life can leave a bitter taste, but the only thing that is really best for me is keep my thoughts in a secret place.