It's still available
A friend is one in our needs
It's a grand gesture
So grab your seats
The attention is for the lovers
Who find life in death
And graduate the jealous circumstance
Life is a disease
Love is the cure, I suppose
But, I'm just a blind man
In a colorful world
Where the flowers and bees
Are made out of trees
And the lakes immerse
In a stream where a stammered eddy flows
Mistaken for the surreptitious breeze
That understands winter is short
To love is better
Than to have never have your heartbroken
Is it in us that we seek such likeness
Such completion in elation is required
I strive to find the meaning of passion
Without any prejudice or pride
Love is a fickle thing