There are too many who could share your bed,
But only One you wish to meet in morning.
Is Love a game? The world is not too bad,
but what is matter when this world is storming?
There are too many who could be with you
Day in, day out, randomly in crowd;
But there is One, and may be only few,
Who bring you sight, who make your feel so proud.
What were all those dreams you ever feed?
And what of those dreams came out as a litter?
Apparently, so many things you need
And its turn out being very little:
A hande of the friend prevents you of the fall,
Some words of those few, who really cares
Will get you up; will make you shiny, whole.
The world is huge. Your world is really small:
Just ... hand in hand with One your life and bed you share.