My love is tone-deaf, I can't hear the pitch
the sweetly nothings, all are nothing songs
and should the heated notes and lyrics switch
I'd be in dated tunes that none belongs.

Now when its time to play, or when to pray
or spice be added too, I tie in knots
love tangled strings that missed the rosy way
like sheets of music bare of noted dots.

Ah! Love of mine still echoes, ringing truth
abundant mess, yet has it's worth in wealth
to sound my gold then listen for my youth
for hearts that sing, meet not a lover's stealth.


So if romantic pleasures sing to meet
try meet in simple terms, and then repeat.