Is it not a simple thing?
This point I ask of some like soul
In these times, is there still space
for this romantic notion?
Are these borders of a fashion
for protection or of suspicion?
What I seek, I hope not past
with all the guileless cares
And, must I sleep one hundred years
for someone to call me theirs?
It is not that I would own or guide
but yield in contribution
I suppose it’s wise to realize
that old school love tradition
Passions only stand as true
when two can lay as one
For as it spreads beyond that crest
the curtains cross the sun
to fill this heart I beg a million shares
for someone to call me theirs