Harvest

Take a look at me And declare your intentions to me My heart bleeds Yes, it daily bleeds Of the substance that goes in there Which the eyes daily encounter And the ones that tint the ear. How best can I cry? For that this generation is making us to dare. Loneliness is a bad game But it's better than being with fake souls. They make you laugh Just to satisfy their gluttons and urge And when the oil is dried, they're gone. My daily cry for love has grown than Mount Olive Even at this age, non is set to wear the crown. Not that my life is made to be a clown As our guys do make good of them for prey. Sixteen abortions gone: I'm not ready for his vow As he mutters in a sweet voice, I love you We're destined to be together While a saint is set to walk down the aisle. Oh this is a crap! As it's getting on my nerves What then makes sense either to be honest Or not to be but have them in tens. No I can't join the league For every act done is a seed by the river Awaiting the period of harvest.