She nearly loves me, she told me last night

She can’t quite put her finger on it, but she knows something feels right

She nearly kissed me, as she passed me by

She thought about it for a moment, then decided to ask why

Her instinct didn’t kick in, her devil had it’s head in the sand

Angel on her shoulder talking at her, then her conscience played it’s hand

Waiting for the ghost train

Waiting for the penny to fall

Waiting through this cruel rain

It’s like she’s shaking an eight-ball

Waiting for the doubt to end

Waiting ‘til she decides

Waiting for the consequence

Hoping that she’ll realise

She nearly wanted me, she held me yesterday

She whispered something I couldn’t make out

Then let go and walked away

She nearly loves me, she showed me inside her soul

But it was empty and the lights were out and a sign said ‘self-control’

Shaking an 8-ball