I used to be the kind of man or woman
Who would come across magic on the bottom,
As if The trick to authentic Pleasure
was something remaining lying close to.
I’d pull it away from library books
their pages ripped and worn,
And swore that I could see it
in the air ahead of a storm.
If you’re cautious to believing
I’m no kiss stranger to distrust,
Back then all I found in library textbooks
was the smell of moths and dirt.
And Inspite of my every promise
that each rainbow holds anything gold.
That no-one born in background
as at any time been quiet bold.
Till I advised them by my smile
that believing is the key.
You cannot change how the world seems to be
till you modify how kiss people see.