I'm told one should suffer enough
To be strong enough to experience love
Toughness is a shoulder burdened much
With a kitbag of disappointment
Enlarged wrinkles carved by sadness and turning natural
Surround a pair of fotune-teller's eyes
"The eyes so refined could tell accurately
A man from his desire, his goodness from his end
Could grasp and quest his bare, tempted heart
And decide whether he's already belonged
Potential or not to be loving enough"
Said they just like romanies
Here comes a man with love on his tounge
So I try to see through his every word
"Wisdom!" I should think wise
Wise enough to refine my piercing eyes
So I can tell this man from his sweet disguise
That cheats me out of love and the drive
See, the way he's not eager for replies
The way he reminds me of my every disappointment
And of the I not loved by me, surely nor doesn't he
Because I know myself, and I should know him well
Because I am so strong, so wise my eyes
As to see through every piece of love
How should one find love, blind and paranoid?
Boil every romance and make love void?
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