This Man

He is the pure gentleman
Yet I don't awe over his moves
When he gives a rose or holds my hand
The eyes of touch replaced by thanks
Maybe I'm just not born to see this man

His ever sweet loving eyes
Only to meet my heartless ones
Despite all that there is only patience
While my conscious fills up with frustration
Why am I just not meant to see this man?

This man is the right man
This man doesn't string me along
Like a rug doll in a puppeteer's hand
Yet hope for the other prolongs
To put shame on this good man
This man who is the man

With the rain, he try his best
Ease the pain, restore me back
His eyes filled with total concern and love
Mine apologises and gives nothing in return
Why am I always cancelling out this man?

This man is the right man
This man doesn't string me along
Like a rug doll in a puppeteer's hand
Yet hope for the other prolongs
To put shame on this good man
This man who is the man

What the hell is wrong with me?
Why am I still saying no?
When all I should do is to be his...
Damn...

This man is the right man
This man doesn't string me along
Like a rug doll in a puppeteer's hand
Yet hope for the other prolongs
To put shame on this good man
This man who is only the best man