Born he,
The silent night,
Heavenly peace.
An angle!
What he seems.
Never been one so cold,
Never gone, he that old.
Words of he is a sunshine in night,
What else could he write?
The words of his had no right.
A man; bohemian
Send upon,
Then blamed.
Happiness,
To him, never flamed.
Truth he spit,
Them made him ashamed.
Fireflies in sky; the star they cry
Oh, the twinkle of is guise,
Don't you get flattered!
His smile,the biggest of his lies
Never mind
A deal still left to make maybe,
He's long gone, thy, let it be.
He the one,
For the young one,
Whole Lot of love
Was it all that he need?