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It's only the above wrong that shelters our love song |
| It seems we have been torn A great distance apart Yet in the eve of a fair day You can not resist my art I envy your every blasphemous sound Yet a single draft consist of our hearts On my behalf, my part I’ll leave no room to anticipate Like a forgotten mark With realms of time, I am forced to participate My age limit gathering dust Constant decisions, rathering I must Every attempt to better this hell, wavering a plus A long with these costly treasures of mine What pleasures do you exactly have in mind? A balance of worthiness, measures our time Seems that with senseless issues, I’ve been stretching my years Grasping the obvious, the unseen Fetching what’s in between the clear I bare no room for fault In your palms my thoughts were so softly caught I may seem tired For I am weathered by scenes of dreams a little higher than fire Will you walk with me? Will you sit and shoot the dust And talk about the myths we’ll grow to be Living for the gifts we are determined to see It’s the above wrong that shelters your love song |