Orina Orina

Picture a racehorse without a saddle, Picture a bicycle without a paddle, Picture a shepherd without his cattle. That’s me without your love. It’s like your love was more of a bubble Because ever since it burst I’ve been weak till I wobble, I still see those eyes you call marble, And I’m certain you’re the only one I’ll ever have. Picture an hour of rain in a desert How amused would people be as they gaze-at, Picture a soldier, who’s just back from war, How he’s embraced till he doesn’t want to let go. That’s me in your arms. It’s like a dream yet feels so real; I never want to wake up if that’s the big deal.