What or' welming thought is this
that causes one to yearn your kiss
and in those lips the feeling bold
that your sweet hand I pine to hold
there in the twining of our hands
lies days ahead in grains of sands
that worries not as each one slips
as long as I've your heart your hands your lips
so here and now and future years
I'll be your laughter and your tears
I'll be your warmth and comfort still
if you my love but say I will
for nothing more a man could seek
than loving you seven days a week

I want to shed my skin and shake the dust.
Not just year of the snake or sin, but also faith and love.
I want to heal from the inside out and not bother with the vain, and lust.
But I regret the trip of craving sick.
Just some appeal that's designed from the pain of us.