They can call me whatever they wish;
a ****, snake, sulutera...
but only you know the truth from my lips.
They can call me by any names;
a *****, abangers, a better girl for you...
as long as we have saturdays and sundays.
They can say anything, talk the talk,
“she’s been waiting”, “she’s this and that!”...
but it's our own garden to water and walk.
This is our year, our best summer,
our year to hiss, kiss, not miss and diss.
This is our year, the year of the lovers,
our year to bite, take flight, dive, feel alive!
Maybe we can take a trip.
Oh, maybe we can double-dip.
Maybe we have learned and grown.
Maybe it’s something I’ve always known.
Maybe we will be friends forevermore.
Oh, maybe we will be so much more,
the most, best, *******.
Maybe this is what we’ve been praying for.
Maybe this is just another funny story
in both of our lore.
Or maybe we’re meant to be together,
like mangoes and summer.