This way and that, huh?

What'll become of me, huh?

Oh May, dear, dear May. You want to make it up to me, I can tell. You want me to believe in you. You want to hold me close and tell me that it's all going to be okay. And I'm sure it will, and I'm sure you're right, but I don't know yet, I don't know. I don't know what I ought to do, or say, or be.

But it is you and me, till June gets here, and you know how she is.

In the meantime May, just hold me, okay?

Coz I'm scared.

<<agé chose>>

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