I've once seen people go in and out
of that beautiful gallery throughout

Awed with it's glittering splendor,
their eyes in a deep surrender

There stood a magnificent picture,
As if it was bathed in golden glitter
They'd always stop by to give it a praise
They would stand in front of it for days

For it was a painting wonderfully made,
Fine strokes of brush with marvelous shade

There it spoke only one language:
Perfection; an old dialect and adage

The people presented were curiously happy.
A child, an adult, fighting over candy
As the others just watched and laughed
Their joyously gay craft

The artist never thought of a glimpse of sorrow
Heck, the worst thing there was an unearthly wallow

And of course everything was accompanied by an aesthetic hue,
Colors that somehow don't know the word: adieu

But somehow I never seem to be amazed
of that painting people always crazed
For only I can see what it really is:
A picture no less than ****

They see fine strokes
When I see it in smokes

They see a marvelous shade
While I see a boring cascade

I beg them to give the gallery reprieve
But they never listen, they never leave

For I can see the colors dying
Yet why won't they start crying?
But I can't blame them for what they say,
Only I can see that picture fading away...

I swear it was moonlit
When I felt like ****

I did something wrong,
Yet I tried to stay strong

It was under the stars,
That I bore these scars

I felt it started out nice,
But who knew that I'd be left in the cold ice?

A voice from flickering air,
It simply left me bare.

I said: "I like you,
I want to know you"

I waited. And finally the message came.
Immediately, I felt more pathetic than lame

Bullet-like words struck my heart
wonderfully like a brilliant piece of art.

So my life, it just stopped then.
It'd be a failure to count to ten.
So yet again, I'll just pick up my pen:
"I know I'll never see you again"

So tonight it's just me
and my guitar
I guess it's alright to be
Gazing on that star

But tonight I own it;
I have it for my own
The wonderful night: moonlit
And the day: bemoan

The stars they seem to blind
These eyes of mine; tired
My guitar? Not that unkind
My pen? Truly inspired

The night is all mine
But it's saying: "get out of my sight"
So I reply: "I'll wait for the sun to shine
so maybe for now, goodnight"

Tomorrow might be a good day,
There is nothing else to say.
For I may have a date,
With a wonderful gal called fate.

And though the stage has been set,
I feel nothing,
I remain a silhouette,
As it's crumbling

Eating with myself;
Not the best thing to do huh?
I'd beg to differ.

We'll see birds flying
We'll see sun rising
We'll hear winds sighing
As for you, enticing

I'll hear fireworks roar
You'll see my eyes shine
For I love you forever more;
Complete and benign

I just hope this would happen
I just hope you were mine
I bet this day will be barren
But, if you're my valentine...