The Language Of Love

March 15, 2011
English is lame, so why bother?
All this trouble to learn the noise we know.
Our English will seldom ever grow
We all speak it but I wish I knew some other.
For now I speak my bro-ken English
But as for my wish?
French, Italian or Portuguese,
I will speak them as I please.
My romantic side complete,
The handsome made handsom-er.
Ladies, prepare for my wooing voice.
The things I would possess!
No teachers could protest
The words that come from the mind to the mouth
Upstairs to down south.
I could confuse you, surprise you,
You would have no knowledge of what I say.
The advantage that will come upon that wonderful day!
Think wonder, amazement, and awe
For when I speak fluently you will drop your jaw.
The way it sounds forever burned in memory
The romantic language will now spell me!





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