The edges of me have rubbed away ...
All my corners, all my angles,
Acute and obtuse alike.
Clouds have more harshness,
Satin, wickeder barbs.
My eyes throw no daggers.
My tongue holds no sting.
Come to me, my love,
While I am like you.
The edges of me have rubbed away ...
All my corners, all my angles,
Acute and obtuse alike.
Clouds have more harshness,
Satin, wickeder barbs.
My eyes throw no daggers.
My tongue holds no sting.
Come to me, my love,
While I am like you.
What if we go out on a date? We're always such homebodies (and I mean everyone around this place), and even though it's a nice home ...