I saw her on the moon and gently went and told her,
that I really liked her,
and I'd like to know her.
The last time I saw her she was walking in the noon..
with beauty and splendour,
faces around her in wonder.
There.. she.. goes again..
looking at her makes me feel the pain.
She said I'm not the kind of man,
somehow I didn't fit her plan,
Her ideal man is somewhere I don't care
but how can I ever forget that stare?
There are words that will never rhyme
There are sheep that will never climb
These words...well, never mind..
Her smile unforgettable, and her voice, sweet like a chime.
But, I didn't get a letter back
maybe its Jim now..or maybe its Jack.
Stolen words can never find their rhythm,
Maybe I should have learnt some french,
maybe I should cooked some chicken.
But there... she... goes again,
looking at her makes feel the pain.
She said I'm not the kind of man,
somehow I didn't fit her plan.
Her ideal man is somewhere I dont care,
but how can I ever forget that stare?
Now my life is like a comma
just waiting for the full stop.
And girls are like butterflies
they flutter around you..and they never stop.
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1 comment:
Not all girls are butterflies, come on, don't generalise :)
Anyway, butterflies are pretty, a task to catch, not everyone manages... and when u catch the butterfly, most times-the pretty colours rub off your fingers, and you realise that you need to leave them, and that they're not meant to be caught, and that to you-they're jus the prettiest fluttering around. Its something else you need to look for. Hope you find it. [Im also being vague, you can completely ignore!]
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