Yours is a soul with a brand.
Wrap my feet in lily pads.
O how I love Midsummer’s Night.
She splashes whiskey all over the desk.
All decked out with her winsome grin.
His passions veiling the sun.
There is always a hint of sadness…
Pluck me the rose, if you please.
To all the girls I’ve loved before.
White fanned bouquet