Love is just that
You cannot tell me that a person is more than that
Because you think only in terms
Who can provide me with luxuries the common man cannot
Yeah! I would love to go to Greece or Los Angeles
And have a house in each
So, I can write sonnets to the sun
But, sometimes, the sun is boring
And we need the rain and snow to write
How miserable our lives really are
Love is love
What else does anyone need?
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