Tread Softly Feet, The Ground is Sharp

The hues are symphonies of your sighs, I touch you when we plead. This craving force that drives us, Each moment's far too late to be staged. And when regrets had finally flown, Our secret, empty bliss. What waits behind can stay untold, Caught up in our desperate. Our magnet clashes end. And our hands can touch for always, Its you I'll ever need; To my greatest friend