There's love in the air
flowers every where.
Every where except
his hand,
isn't love grand?
Your flower vase
sats empty no trace.
Not even a loving smile
on his face,
you turn your head
in disgrace.
There's music in the air,
he only sits and stare,
won't even dance,
you stare in a trance.
Tripping over the
dull dead romance,
many times you wonder
if it still has a chance.
Day in and day out
He sats and drink
whiskey sours,
never brings home
any flowers.
Rose thorns stick,
you'd love the prick.
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