Some say that love is like a statement,
And some say that Love's a burden,
Some say it's a bird,
And some say that's dissonance,
Some say it makes the world go round,
And some say it makes the stars go down;
And when I ask my fellow next-door,
Pretend that he knew well,
With all his knew for many he knew had he,
The man next Sevier he can foretell,
I knew him well,
And every truant knew;
Does it tendu like rain?
Or tis with perfection?
Does it whip boom! like a military band?
Or does it odour smell comforting?
Could one give first-step imitation?
Or give a brief thought of meditation,
In that of his small head with brain embedded?
Does it look like pizza piano stuff?
Or is it singing Melody...