oh, this grip, what seems to be
the power you hold over me
a hold that I cannot escape
like syrup within a tasty crepe
like old shoelaces, worn and ripped
like fries in chocolate shakes are dipped
or flapjacks on a stove are flipped
perhaps a moonlit serenade
perhaps some homemade squeezed lemonade
or simply lying with you in the shade
you see, these simple things, to me
perhaps are what our love can be
Dec 8, 2016
Dec 8, 2016 at 6:55 PM UTC
oh, this grip, what seems to be
the power you hold over me
a hold that I cannot escape
like syrup within a tasty crepe
like old shoelaces, worn and ripped
like fries in chocolate shakes are dipped
or flapjacks on a stove are flipped
perhaps a moonlit serenade
perhaps some homemade squeezed lemonade
or simply lying with you in the shade
you see, these simple things, to me
perhaps are what our love can be
