I'm sitting in my confortable chair.
Inside,it's full of warm air.
The fire is burning in the fireplace.
I'm drawing on a sheet your face.
On the page are now just shadows,
I'm still writing for you this rows.
The pencil, now, has it's own mind
I still want a girl to find.
But that girl doesn't know
How my feelings, all the time float,
On the quiet sea of my brain
She's driving me all the time insane.
For her pretty face.
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