Everyone is taken, so it seems
Yet their hearts are alone in their lonely inns,
And even the skies bends like the drying fins.
Maybe it’s because a fingerling have no finger of a ring
And while they sing,
The lovebirds have lost their voice when love was a king…
Or because the aisle they once walked across
Now have bleeding footprints
Casted and engraved on the floor…
Love is false when the entrance to the room
Has a beautiful black painted floor
Fancy frames but a wide closed door.
Love and lust begot each other in fun
The days of jungle love is long gone
Now there to a branch, several fruits on
So in anticipation wait is served to woe
Hopefully for who to whom
They are most likely a second string to pull…
I opened the diaries of many ladies
Only to discover that babies will always be babies
And with the mind of a man, not all men are men for the roses…
The greatest joy to have isn’t a ring
But…. Home of a ring
That brings forth joy, and good tidings…
