They say there are 7 romance languages,

Or maybe it was 5.

I say they’re full of shit,

Because they always lie.

They pick petals off of roses,

And blow dandelion seeds to the sky,

Tell you to suck it up when thorns prick,

And that daisies, and clover

Only deserve to die.

They say there are 35 romance languages,

But that we just stick to 5,

And that 3 or 4 have died.

I say they’re full of shit,

Because most hearts don’t know how to lie

And even less,

what they should like.

They forget,

They’ve never heard,

How my heart skips,

When your lips part,

to caress your mother tongue.

How hundreds, and thousands,

Have fallen in love,

And broken over languages

Not romance.

Next Chapter: Agricultor