Love is warm, summer rain.
Love is laughing, love is pain.
Love can ground you, or make you fly
In Love, there is no letter I.
Love's a lifestyle, not a choice.
Love are girls; Love are boys.
Love's an answer. It's not a „why?“
Love can even make you cry.
Love's not shallow. Love is deep.
Love is when you can't go to sleep.
Love's not „that“, Love is „this“!
Love's the railroad where we used to kiss.
Love is grass on which we used to lay
Love's a hunter and Love is prey.
Love's a song of early birds.
For Love, there are no words.
Love is day. Love is night.
Love was when we used to fight.
Love can change your inner self.
Love's a diary in my bottom shelf.
Love is every song I hear.
Love's a whisper in my ear.
Love's your hoodie I used to wear.
Love is when I smell your hair.
Love, it's a color green.
Love's that place to where I've been.
Love, the feeling is the best!
Love, it's the warmpt between our chest.
Sometimes, Love hurts like a knife.
Love's a teacher of your life.
Love thought me, and now I know,
Sometimes, Love means letting go.

I like being bored
I like being sad
I like being silly
and occasionally mad.

I like to pick my nose
I like to scratch my beard
I like to goof around
and just play it weird.

I love to lay in bed
I love to waste my time
And when it strikes my head
I often write or rhyme.

I hate when I'm alone
and when I have to cry
when I'm on my own
either drunk or high.

But life is now
and it's not wrong
to take a bow
and write a song.

One day when you grow old
Miles away from distant past
You will hear for a song told
By a humble man that passed.

You won't know who he was
Even though you knew him then
And you will feel bad because
You'll never see him again.

And he will watch you with his eyes
Of a humble man that cries
Every second in the skies
Regretting the demise
Of his life, unwise...

...ly spent on writing a song
That will be just as long
As the grief of a man who spent
His whole life staying strong
Just because he belonged
To a man reading
That very song.

That summer when I first found love
And blindly let myself with ease
All I could feel during those eight weeks
Were his worn, soft lips and summer breeze.

Those eight weeks were a whole new life
For a cynic like I was back then
First time opening my fragile soul
Not to a woman, but another man.

I was afraid I must admit
As my feelings grew towards yet a stranger
But in time he got closer
And I felt safe from any danger.

But new in this world I didn't assume
That the real danger is a broken heart
And when he left all I could do
Is escape from the pain trough my art.

But that's past. My heart is healed
I managed to go trough all that pain
There will come others and others will leave
But the first love will always remain.

* * *

And for the end one thing left
Most pains faded but one did not
I still love. I still remember
But I'm afraid that he forgot.

Love's a master, rich but cruel.
I know, I was her slave.
Doing work you should of knew
It will dig yourself a grave.

Love's a poet, I've herd her songs.
Her words are gentle. Her words are wise.
But naked, blind and naive as such
I never noticed that they were lies.

Love's a friend you call at night
To wipe those problems off your neck.
But such close friends you have to watch
Not to stab you in the back.

As love is lovely, but harsh sometimes.
It makes you cry. It makes you dance.
It's scary, at first, but you learn in time
She's always worth a second chance.