Someone’s existence to be felt from far of distance
Masse’s morality stinks of power and lust
Love exists with money, fame, skin, age and race???
Not a mere relation, a philosophical quench, a singular’s thirst.

I love that girl, sales flower across the street
Her skillful hands crafts, “joy and woe are woven fine”
Sad pair of eyes glares with pain, so divine a treat
Is this love! Won’t fade away, remains a sacred wine?

Can’t touch you, won’t feel you, at top of my lungs I say I love you
I dream, I scream, sounds futile never ever reaches through
Whether I’m a rambling man, a hobo, a hippie beat or a communist
As a One in love of two babe, this is all for a loner’s gist.