I wake to hear your name sung by a bird.
Your name, your name, your name sung, so sweetly by a sparrow,
peirce's through my mind as if one was an apple and the other an arrow.
How blind you are to not see what's in front of your own eyes.
How I long to kiss those lips.
For a bee may make its honey, but to me your lips will always be sweeter.
My love for you is so true and pure I believe Aphrodite the goddess of love above us has cast a spell on me to forever wish to be with you.
But sadly not all wishes do come true,
for you haven't even attempted a glace for me to be with you.
