The cold wind feels dead and grim
but the warmth of her arms awaits him.
He moves foward as if chaising a dream.
He has no clue of how to get to his destination
but he keeps going trugh the whole nation
simply by not paing attention.
He is a distracted and abstracted thinker.
She is his drug and he is a twicker.
Its a bad addiction
just like the potheads blunt get thicker
or as the drunk to his liquor.
But let the man be no intervention needed.
It keeps him happy, no need to be treated.
A man in love is a man committed.
To love you is my mission
What I might do has a reason
To hurt you would be treason
And treason means divition.
So hold on tight
Trugh evry figh
tLove me more,
with all your might
And soon enough in our flight
The moon quite bigg wi'll have in sight.