Living the life the way it should be
It's a mad dream, sometimes poetry;
Or just a sip from an old wine,
Touching a woman from ten to nine.
Nothing is perfect, the way it should be -
The see of sea, the tray of the tree;
We'd be bored of perfection,
And overfilled of affection.
The wine is smiling, it's talking to me,
Talking about love and her anatomy;
I'm starting to mumble living a dream,
It's only my life that makes me scream.
Are you intrigued? You shouldn't be -
Nothing is new, what it happens to me;
The wine is different but same effect,
Its wonderful power is not to neglect.
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