My look so grand from a distance that you need to touch.
It gives a vision of the simple but it isn't much.
I won't be fooled by its touch,
an emotional supply,
The scent of a fail
in heavy love we dry,
The cold and the bare grass
so delicate by one's eye,
It's why we can't ally
and elope tonight.
Almost forgotten the way we used to live for play.
To be accepted, I must blend into convention's way
and sing the universal ways.
( Em )
