It is Saturday noon,
and my lover is sprawled alluringly on our haven of dreams .
The translucent curtains dispels the darkness in the room
as my lover gleams.
It is Saturday noon,
amd I want to imprint a collage of kisses on my lovers body.
A trip down the back of her neck to her coccyx is an enchanted cascade path,
where I would lie till death's wrath.
It is Saturday noon,
and I want to divulge the eighth wonder of the world to the human race.
A sight of her presence will make men race
to reach and embrace
It is Saturday noon,
and I have been set free from Oblivion's cage
death's wrath had taken my lover
and left me with hopelessness and rage
It is Saturday noon,
and the reason for my existence echoes with abandonment.
Our haven of dreams is nothing but a desolate place.
It is Saturday noon,
and I would go to hell and back just to see my lover’s face.
