as I did it before, but not knowingly, in your love, I surrender over again; the stars' nectary are your words and diaphane touch, your perfume; infinite miracles recite your soul and fruity passion, your dreams' sap; veils of melodies are your chic smile ripened in my thrills, night and day; a wondered vibe is your good night, and bubbly wine, your mornin' gaze; your love, held me, holds me and will still hold me, between your lips; now hug me, kiss me, take me home; home is you, in my dreams, sure thing;

the night has shown some smile of yours mirroring it quietly thru a window; nobody looked at it; i moved it in a dream; dream is entitled, (once in a blue Monday); glancing at it, the moon felt proud; it loved the tactic of screening your smile;

he doesn't touch me, he comforts me he doesn't heat me up, he turns me into honey in his hive he's slipping with the rhythm of my trance scented charmingly with his passion vines' collections inside him, i make blossom the whimsical hypotheses anointed with my essential myrrh he whistles with happiness… i'm the sculptor of his time marbling under his eyelids the tenderest trouble

if you could make a little time for me, you could start every single day with only the thousandth of a second filled with your silence inside me, you to jingle on, with that something which educates you to learn to let go to any ignorance, enough to be able to reset your watch, just to run on with the hundredth of a second, until your mind mechanism will meet me exactly at a nonspecific sharp hour, (not earlier, not later), but to hold on to the divine harmony in the alchemy of our blood with orgasmic taste, when you breathe me to breathe you, in dream