i'm a yellow chill a daffodil in the rain thought i found my place kinda heard to explain
sip each glass of wine your palette needs a rest taste his *******'s brine along your lips
signing documents you can't help hide your grin sweat beading down your brow my nervous penmanship
is this what they call peace four hundred dollars an hour the clock says nine past three rounding up minutes they devour
caught you dead to rights my son's new step father when he sees your blight harvest grapes turn sour
i feel constant dread our son can't cope the truth so far above his head your soulless attribute
i'm a daffodil, more like a coward in the rain.
These troubadours, between truth and lies, corrupt lovers, women and husbands and keep saying that Love proceeds obliquely A tenso (Old Occitan [tenˈsu, teⁿˈsu]) is a style of troubadour song. It takes the form of a debate in which each voice defends a position; common topics relate to love or ethics.