You I like you, and mystified, felt more
A person dies slow with no hopes in sight
Nothing can create art like hope
When the future is burning bright with light.
Naive youth rise to fast then fall to hard
But as wise we enjoy the thrills of time
The past being full of treasures
Memories that blow your mind.
It is as if your hand has passed into mine,
As if your hand went into my hand
And the static magic electricity has been freed
That scared person is not scared anymore.