No, you cannot do that
In a canvas of fallen leaves, arms of shooting petals and a falling parade of words
You cannot look at me
You cannot somewhere amongst the conventional passion of a sunset tell me you need me
You cannot show me how much you care in the silence so alive on a quiet country path full of historic lust, twisted brambles of fate and growing corners into tomorrow that beg for your new touch
You cannot here right now push me against sweet walls of amber and tell me how courageously you will fight for me
You cannot in a Tuscany summer strawberry breakfast come smell my scent to wake alive in the morning, glowing in the morning
You cannot fall asleep in my arms where a moon over looks the world
Anywhere
You cannot embark on trying to watch that moon distil its flavour on a lake side terrace of imagination – where fisher man lie their sailing swifts scattered on distinctive air of connection
Somewhere small and untransformed easily, somewhere difficult to reach by normal methods of loving
The water stills with joy at watching us fascinated by how we fit into each other
The perfect scenery
Blending with the midnight voucher we offer to pay the picture of ….. African fallacy
You cannot be my fantasy or be a part of my dreams
You cannot be a side of my order of romance or life
I cannot be…worth it
In a canvas of fallen leaves, arms of shooting petals and a falling parade of words
You cannot look at me
You cannot somewhere amongst the conventional passion of a sunset tell me you need me
You cannot show me how much you care in the silence so alive on a quiet country path full of historic lust, twisted brambles of fate and growing corners into tomorrow that beg for your new touch
You cannot here right now push me against sweet walls of amber and tell me how courageously you will fight for me
You cannot in a Tuscany summer strawberry breakfast come smell my scent to wake alive in the morning, glowing in the morning
You cannot fall asleep in my arms where a moon over looks the world
Anywhere
You cannot embark on trying to watch that moon distil its flavour on a lake side terrace of imagination – where fisher man lie their sailing swifts scattered on distinctive air of connection
Somewhere small and untransformed easily, somewhere difficult to reach by normal methods of loving
The water stills with joy at watching us fascinated by how we fit into each other
The perfect scenery
Blending with the midnight voucher we offer to pay the picture of ….. African fallacy
You cannot be my fantasy or be a part of my dreams
You cannot be a side of my order of romance or life
I cannot be…worth it
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