She's the one that's is seen as time,
the old question we as men ask ourselves,
what do i have to do to make her mine.
We grow up and see the many joys of the world, but as we in turn grasp the thought of joys we truly seek that girl,
the glimpse of beauty I seem to see,
is what we as young boys want to flee,
and maybe it's right that we fear the fate,
that love implants it's first tastes on our firsts dates.
but maybe sometimes we should just run away to ditch,
but ****** she's so innocent she can't type the word b**.