7/7/17
Seven is a minute after six
Seven is an hour I used to get your text
Seven is a month of hot July to relax
Twenty seventeen is a year to hold on/to hope/to fix
With seven colors reminiscing
With heaven on a rainbow God us facing
How many times He got the Earth polished?
How many generations were destroyed and vanished?
Those holly waters cover tearing eyes...
I want to kiss you, swallow you, but have to think more then twice.
Two multiple three equals six...
Thought I'm bad, not good at math.
Six colors plus purple minerals with iron and Magnesian stone...
I'm not good... I'm bad... I'm not good in physics.
Though I hold you tight from the the moment I found.
I'm bad... I'm not good... I'm bad... It all checks.
On Seventh of Seventh month in Two south es meeting again theirs one common youth or teen...
I'm bad at times, but it has to be Friday.
I will see you right after ten...
I'm not good, but I'll keep saying with music:"I love you!"
I'm a sinner, still yet some what of a singer... In songs I sink, I laugh, and cry, and pray!
Thank you that you do all of that with me everyday!