Does love give us wings or cut off our legs? Your red wine mischief makes me think the latter. You hide in your women’s ******* from the only girl who consumes your mind; hoping lust will drive out the love. I watch you destroy yourself with your own mind. We are all born with a clover in our hand, some are lucky and some are not. But your forehead kiss on my drunken head makes me think I have four leaves.