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Convert what I have lost
Your voice like iron chains,
firmly adapt to my soul and skin,
your eyes are as the guards,
guarding an important document
such as the original copy
of the declaration of independence,
your fresh aroma
is that of a bear,
delighted himself with his sense of smell
as he approaches a bee hive,
every single day it seems
the pain grows,
such as the gasoline prices,
every single day
it seems I am more far away
to express my feelings,
for you have the voice
to be my American idol,
the voice to take me to that other world,
where darkness is thing of the past,
for your voice needs the tunes
to make this place a magical world,
I would pull out my veins,
turn them to a guitar or violin,
but they have form a barrier
to keep you out from harm,
like the lonely guitar without chords,
I am the man without veins,
relying on your precious being
to replace what I have no more
-che
