Romantic Poems

Thursday half past two.
A table for two without you.
The sun will always find nothing new.

Thursday half past three.
Feel free on the matinee.
Turn on the TV and can't feel my knee.

Thursday half past four.
One, two, three and sore.
Close my eyes and I can't wake anymore.

Thursday half past five.
The air is thick and i feel sick.
With all that dreams on a sugar stick.

And i say: "Hey, everything is perfect".
And i say: "Hey, nothing imperfect".

Thursday half past six.
Be in love, be alive.
When there's no hope, tears won't help to survive.