If you were a butterfly, you would fly. If you flew over the sky, you would shine. Moons and stars can be your prize, but I've surmised. I love you most when you can read my mind. But yo, It feels like mountains when we climb. A few short steps to springtime, my guy.
A bitter republic weeps out "woe is me," Holding on to hopeless baffling beliefs, Nothing is sacred if it won't fill their needs, Yet when they're finished, they stay on their knees, Speaking aloud "Sir, I want some more." Straight from the movies without saying please.