Love is class A
For life’s unfulfilled
The fix
Three words they say
Makes your vision blurred
And perception hazy
On things
That would normally make you crazy
Company is class B
For more clever kids
The fix
His mitts o your mitts
Makes the hours faster
Then we are young
Who says
It still doesn’t make your pulse run
You are class C
For I myself and me
The fix
You touching my knee
Makes me sound like a twat
And you blush blood red
And wish you were dead
I suppose its good
I don’t know you yet
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