My girl,
simply so fine,
calls our conception,
a glorious crime,
as time flies,
faster than light,
& leaves your emotions,
tied up inside,
Oh no,
where did you go
folded onto the floor,
Sunday,
we were divine.
Monday,
My heart was mine.
I could've warned you then,
she's done a hundred men,
I could've warned you
but I lied.
She is not yours but mine.
