In the dawn of my intellectual youth
I had a belief; a thought of love
The whole world, I thought, believed it's truth
The whole world, it's sanity, Bereft of,
For wasn't love just constructed of words
For wasn't love just one more 'thing' to gain.
It is blood, not butterfly's or songbirds
Which our hearts pump steadily through our veins.
In the morn of my intellectual youth
I realised that my beliefs could be wrong
This idea of love was not an untruth
And the heart can in some ways sing sweet songs
So maybe love is not words or a 'thing'
So is love what I feel about this fling
