I may be out of line to write you a poem.
But I will be on point with these lines.
Must my will sleep off, or join this sweet cry?
I pray she's too proud to try to slide off the road.
I pray she races straight and makes it to her desired destination.
Crossing its fingers; my hope desires she turns to me.
Body bliss lingers and lies closely finer than birds to a tree.
A parade of faces so faint and tainted, yet a true chirp transpires through the fake figs.
Still, she refuses to fly.
Come away with me and Norah Jones.
I'd love to take Ms. Jean: forward's home!
Until, I'll surely lose before trying.
So please know I'm here to fight any monster that bothers.
I'm just a kid at heart, but I'll be a man to have yours.
I must admit that harm won't touch your hand through bad storms.
Hold me close dear despite your ex, mother, and father.
If you can, let me know.
I'll be your problem solver.
If you can't, let me know.
I'll endure a calm touch no longer.
