Set your eyes on something pleasant.
Let them wander trough the present...
Set your eyes on something pleasant.
Let them wander trough the present...
Dear Emilia, soon you are here
The Color of your green eyes bright and clear...
I am by now skillful in Europe
Some parts at least...
Nothing like love
nothing like love...
A cold flame,
burns so hot it freezes me...
Undying devotion,
that's what love means...
We started this travel
With our hearts in our hands...
Hands are intimate objects of affections
Hold hands on dirty streets, forget the vague...
Okay.
I promised, I told you I'd try...
This boy... he's a sour orange juice
That washes over me, like a wave to cruise...
I agree it is not easy,
to think of new poems for you...