Show me your lovely voice,
Full of joyful flowers full of toys.
Show me your annoyed voice I used to hate.
Fears fade, the ghost decayed.
You´re not a bum like mom,
But a fresh cherry plum.
You open my eye lids a little, with a little bit of spit.
You make my eyes spot disguise and surmise, webs and flies,
And lit the soul pit.
You dared take a peek to my burnt fries.
You make me discover lies I told to allies and to spies.
But there is a cue, and that is to coo,
To shew a better view,
To glimpse the splendor of morning dew.
Love you true.