Orina Orina
Picture a racehorse without a saddle,
Picture a bicycle without a paddle,
Picture a shepherd without his cattle.
That’s me without your love.
It’s like your love was more of a bubble
Because ever since it burst I’ve been weak till I wobble,
I still see those eyes you call marble,
And I’m certain you’re the only one I’ll ever have.
Picture an hour of rain in a desert
How amused would people be as they gaze-at,
Picture a soldier, who’s just back from war,
How he’s embraced till he doesn’t want to let go.
That’s me in your arms.
It’s like a dream yet feels so real;
I never want to wake up if that’s the big deal.
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