All pitter patter heart, and pitter patter fingertips,
fingertips, fingertips, fingertips again.
I stumble to explain the reason for the pattering,
Caught between your subtle lip and the shadow of your gaze.
All pitter patter heart, but pattering on memory,
On memory, on memory, on memory again.
The shadow of your gaze seems a lovely phrase,
But it never could contain the captivation of the source.
Still pitter patter goes my heart.
Pitter patter goes my little heart.