It is true, my hon br that not all of them, really br will be chipper and fun br so consider this freely br when you sit on your bun br in the morning's wee hours br that I may be the hun br who, like soft April showers br when all's said and all's done br would gift-wrap you in flowers br so when down goes our sun br the unwrapping brings joy br and, done slowly, is fun br you won't be my toy br but rather my sun. br And your smile is the web br that our friendship has spun br thus there is no low ebb br or displeasure to shun br you ask about reading br another one wrong br which reminds me of needing br to hear a love song. br And the sun will not grow br inside your pink soul br I know this is so br as the sun is so whole br and you are such perfection br as those secret vibes told br so my own predilection br is your heart, made of gold.