A little bit of cake
A little bit of grape
The sky is red
The temples are set
And the eyes, blurry

The maps shall be drawn
With the greatest ink of all
Pleasures without boarders
As they travel to Paris
Without flying to Paris

It is the season of agape
Not for ****** immoralities
It's just nine months
Cambridge result will be out
Save for those who played safe

The reason for the season is love
That which knows no bound
Dear Valentine
Please be kind
We are already over-populated