Perhaps it’s the drink that makes me think
And sink and drown in your fluids.
On that night I only wanted to waste away
My sorrows begotten throughout the day
And forget her name by the end of May.
When by chance our paths crissed and crossed
And the faces of my friends I suddenly lost
And you were the only thing I could see,
A beautiful sea to wash over me.
Perhaps it’s the drink, it makes me romantic
Or the warmth of the feel on the small of your back
But if you asked me to die I would surely be glad too,
And if you asked me to leave I’d be mad to not have you.
Alas, in the morning I know I’ll wake up
And your scent will be gone and I drank far too much.
I’ll never know if you were really there,
But I’ll know that I loved you, a woman most fair.
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