Yola

How do we measure love, do you look at the sea, wonder if there ever enough, she talks of sleeping rough, and what it means to be, on top of that trough, its no use acting tough, better be at any cafe', make good of prison, no running or hurrying up, go to museums for freedom, drink wine by broken cup, not too many scruples, washing feet on desolation street, screaming her rebuffs, flips a coin sees enough, worse than jail she tells me, forsake it all delay the 'cuff, my grand schemes.