On new year eve when the sun on the west hung low
And the east wind on dead leaves blow
I paced to the yellow woods
And sat on my favourite wood
Where not long after I fell into a trance
Not of any divine trace
But a dream from my person
And I saw a vision backwards:
365 days ago, not long ago
I was on the same spot
For the familiar new year ritual
That of writing my aspirations
My fickle fingers wrote my dreams on the hard earth
On the passing sands of time
But no traces of them was left
Perchance carried by the furious wind
To the store house of wasted words
I continued in the vision backwards
When I heard a voice from me saying
" Don't write your dreams on sand
Write them on your heart "
I woke from my short trance
When the crimson moon was awake above
And the night owl hooting echoed through the woods
Left the woods without performing my ritual
Because i heard a vision backwards
" Don't write your dreams on sand
Write them on your heart."

as you getting close
and closer
and i getting out
and out...
of breath

walking past me
confidently
i looked over
as you getting near
and near her
and you getting out
and out...
of breath
as your lips touch *hers

We are water.
We are fluid,
and bending.
We move with the ebbing tide,
and embrace the seas of change.
We are ruled,
unknowingly,
by the rhythm
of a crying moon.
We are dependent
on her love
to lead us back
from deeper waters,
to lead us back to shore,
to lead us back to you.

Oh little love
Hold that head up
He's really not that
into you
Maybe it's because
you called him
Baby (daddy)* or maybe
in that first conversation
you sent a picture
of your *****

He got that cream
from the cow
what do you expect
him to do now?

Of course he's going to
continue to milk
some stupid cow
for free
but trust me
He's not in love with you
He's just *******
on a tree
marking territory

but you ain't the only bush
in the forest, lovely...

Oh little love
just remember
that **** pic
he sent to you
went through
10 million gigabytes
before it got to you

Little love
I beg of you
of backlit screen
and tattered pride
anonymity
is a great place to hide
even on the darkest night
when your phone screen
is the only source of light
when words are not actions
no real kisses or hugs
The Internet is no place
to find love