I'm told one should suffer enough To be strong enough to experience love Toughness is a shoulder burdened much With a kitbag of disappointment Enlarged wrinkles carved by sadness and turning natural Surround a pair of fotune-teller's eyes "The eyes so refined could tell accurately A man from his desire, his goodness from his end Could grasp and quest his bare, tempted heart And decide whether he's already belonged Potential or not to be loving enough" Said they just like romanies Here comes a man with love on his tounge So I try to see through his every word "Wisdom!" I should think wise Wise enough to refine my piercing eyes So I can tell this man from his sweet disguise That cheats me out of love and the drive See, the way he's not eager for replies The way he reminds me of my every disappointment And of the I not loved by me, surely nor doesn't he Because I know myself, and I should know him well Because I am so strong, so wise my eyes As to see through every piece of love How should one find love, blind and paranoid? Boil every romance and make love void? --

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