The Watcher

Here I stand, a ghost of a man

Who sees you from afar

There are you, if only you knew

how beautiful you are

There they go, they think that they know

They think it’s you they see

See you there, but don’t really care

or know what you mean to me

I have seen a beautiful queen

who’ll never see the pauper

in his disguise away from the eyes

of those who deem it improper

So here am I, living in a lie

The monarch of despair

Who leaves a rose but always knows

He doesn’t have a prayer

Though you think me below you and you yearn for ones above you

I see you and I know you and I cannot help but love you