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………………„-^*'' : : „'' : : : : *-„
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…………./ : : „-* . .| : : : : : : : : '|
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In my hand is a pen that will write a poem of me and you
The ink flows down into a dark puddle
Just move your hand, write the way into his heart
But in this world of infinite choices
What will it take just to find that special day?
What will it take just to find that special day?
Have I found everybody a fun assignment to do today?
When you're here, everything that we do is fun for them anyway
When I can't even read my own feelings
What good are words when a smile says it all?
And if this world won't write me an ending
What will it take just for me to have it all?
Does my pen only write bitter words for those who are dear to me?
Is it love if I take you, or is it love if I set you free?
The ink flows down into a dark puddle
How can I write love into reality?
If I can't hear the sound of your heartbeat
What do you call love in your reality?
And in your reality, if I don't know how to love you
I'll leave you be
If ever man were loved by wife, then thee.
If ever wife was happy in a man,
Compare with me, ye women, if you can.
I prize thy love more than whole mines of gold,
Or all the riches that the Eastthe East East Indies, southeast Asia, including India; the English East India Company began in 1600. doth hold.
My love is such that rivers cannot quench,
Nor ought but love from thee give recompense.
Thy love is such I can no way repay;
The heavens reward thee manifold, I pray.
Then while we live, in love let’s so persever,
That when we live no more, we may live ever.
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