I know why the writing on her face appears,   Because she can't say   All the things on her mind   Everyday she begs me   "Please, oh please you have to understand   And read between all of the lines"      Time goes down the drain   Love can be the same      Every morning, she's afraid to wash her face   Because she knows that no one   Could then read her mind   So instead, she passes all her time   By always making sure   That the writing is catching your eye      When I try to kiss her pretty face,   She always shies away   And says "Some of the ink isn't dry"   And I try so hard to sympathize,   But really all I know is that if I can't have her, I'll die      Then one day she looked into the mirror,   only to discover all that she read was a lie   Then she turned to me and said   "My love, I can't decide if I'm going dyslexic or blind"