Tuesday, August 18, 2015


They're all looking at us.
Look innocent, my love.
Let's leave behind what was,
And cherish what we have,
Although they disturb this eve
And ideas I conceive.

Like the new grasses green,
The fresh breath of the air,
The pink roses that win,
And sweet honey so fair,
You have the voice of beasts,
And I look to the east

Wondering where we'll hide,
So this love they can't chide.
We can't always abide.

Though on them we depend;
Our scandals they sell,
And they pray that we end,
For their own hearts still swell
For either you or I,
And no one can know why.
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