Sweet Summer's Curse
When Autumn's golden leaves are washed away
And Winter's harsh breath is long blown astray,
It's Spring's soft tears that caress my wearied skin,
And her gentle embrace that unfurls my yearly sin.
And Winter's harsh breath is long blown astray,
It's Spring's soft tears that caress my wearied skin,
And her gentle embrace that unfurls my yearly sin.
I am no poet nor playwright, but I must say
That I do compare thee to a Summer's day.
That I do compare thee to a Summer's day.
O! This dreadful ailment, the matters of mine hart
Why doth you seek me ev'ry cursed June?
It pains me so, yet concealing you, it's like fine art.
But it's okay, Darling, it will all be over soon.
Why doth you seek me ev'ry cursed June?
It pains me so, yet concealing you, it's like fine art.
But it's okay, Darling, it will all be over soon.
Because Autumn doesn't wait on lovers,
Nor does fair Winter, or gentle Spring.
Grasping at my fragile hart, draining it of colours
Maybe next time, Darling, I'll let this love sing.
Nor does fair Winter, or gentle Spring.
Grasping at my fragile hart, draining it of colours
Maybe next time, Darling, I'll let this love sing.
- Mercurio
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