So this is love, oh had I but known.
Your beauty leaves a heart enslaved,
Were I a king-for you, what of throne?
My abdication subjects would forgive.
A world without you would be grey
A canvass without its colour.
A divine artist though passed this way.
Oh please- never meet my brother!
My heart no longer dwells within
I wear it on my sleeve.
The end of me would be your sin
Should you ever leave.
But wait. What beauty does approach?
Oh fickle heart of mine.
Now shall I incur reproach.
Er-What was your name again?
Sep 8, 2010
Sep 8, 2010 at 1:17 AM UTC
So this is love, oh had I but known.
Your beauty leaves a heart enslaved,
Were I a king-for you, what of throne?
My abdication subjects would forgive.
A world without you would be grey
A canvass without its colour.
A divine artist though passed this way.
Oh please- never meet my brother!
My heart no longer dwells within
I wear it on my sleeve.
The end of me would be your sin
Should you ever leave.
But wait. What beauty does approach?
Oh fickle heart of mine.
Now shall I incur reproach.
Er-What was your name again?
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