My looks so grand from the distance that you need to touchIt gives a vision of the simple but it isn't muchI won't be fooled by its touch of emotional supplyThe scent of a feel in heavy love we dryThe cold in the bare grass so delicate by one's eyeIt's where we can't rely the look to grandAlmost forgotten the way we used to live for playTo be accepted, I must blend into convention's wayand sing the only wishing waysI won't be fooled by it's touch of emotional supplyThe scent of a feel in heavy love we dryThe cold in the bare grass so delicate by one's eyeIt's where we can't rely the look to grand
