With the force of desire and passion of fire and candor of the sea
The colonel's son rode the broad stallion and a dreadful horse was he
Passing in full rage through the sultry maze created by the clever girl
A bend, a bow, a stoop and tow, to avoid the lethal fall.
With the power of ox and cunning of fox, he could make pebbles speak
The sun further powered his rage that was burning his heart for weeks
The girl was still adamant though not to accept an honourable defeat
Although he had closed in this close and marched further indeed.
The truce had been accorded well at least by one of the hounds
But the lady would still strive and contrive even with no help around
The march would only go on and on, even in the middle of March
The leaves are back, floral tapestries attack even on dry earth parched.
With the hope of a peasant and heart of pheasant and shudder down his spine
The colonel's son prepares to meet the most despicable figure bovine
That calves too well to make hearts swell, and lives across the ocean
Salt water cast off her bitter tears, in trembling fright for the deadly unison.
With the strength of words and clamour of swords, he pleads too hard again
She groans, bemoans, in husky tones, where waves fade at a distance
She is full of hate for all the wait, he hates her for the beauty
That sets him, confederates him, even at times of duty.
For this particular meeting here, where the voluptuous sky meets the sea
For this flawless fitting here, created between the he and the she
The colonel's son may give up pride, ego and sorrow and all
The shadow still floats over the sea whilst she may take her call.
The colonel's son rode the broad stallion and a dreadful horse was he
Passing in full rage through the sultry maze created by the clever girl
A bend, a bow, a stoop and tow, to avoid the lethal fall.
With the power of ox and cunning of fox, he could make pebbles speak
The sun further powered his rage that was burning his heart for weeks
The girl was still adamant though not to accept an honourable defeat
Although he had closed in this close and marched further indeed.
The truce had been accorded well at least by one of the hounds
But the lady would still strive and contrive even with no help around
The march would only go on and on, even in the middle of March
The leaves are back, floral tapestries attack even on dry earth parched.
With the hope of a peasant and heart of pheasant and shudder down his spine
The colonel's son prepares to meet the most despicable figure bovine
That calves too well to make hearts swell, and lives across the ocean
Salt water cast off her bitter tears, in trembling fright for the deadly unison.
With the strength of words and clamour of swords, he pleads too hard again
She groans, bemoans, in husky tones, where waves fade at a distance
She is full of hate for all the wait, he hates her for the beauty
That sets him, confederates him, even at times of duty.
For this particular meeting here, where the voluptuous sky meets the sea
For this flawless fitting here, created between the he and the she
The colonel's son may give up pride, ego and sorrow and all
The shadow still floats over the sea whilst she may take her call.