Who is this girl in front of me?
Am I supposed to set you free?
You never told me how you felt,

to be this perfectly imperfect self.

Whatever is my job in here,
to set you free, to guide you, dear.
I hear you and I am here to stay,
you never told me, that you always
felt that you are late late.

Too late to try,
Too late to be,
Too late to see,
Too late to feel.

But darling, why so sure?
Remember when you never try,
You neither feel what you might be.