He is the man known for his deeds.
The unpretentious soul who follows his own creed.
The king of sixty’s folk music
The loving divine soul, the epitome.
The effigy for terrible liars.
The artist for seeking admirers.
He walks with a gait
Unswayed by the samiels.
Gentle as creek,
Wild as lion untamed,
Who rules the world
The hills, the dales.
When his lips apart
One loses his heart.
When words tend to flow
Through his naked tongue so calm,
It’s like angels whispering in harmony
Drawn into his alluring charm.
The cold floes & silent woes drift enigmatically
Deep in his numb reticent eyes.
It’s like thousands of ravens fluttering in the sky.
But he’s been holding the fire,
Flames of ardour in his eyes.
It’s like a blaze, a blaze of zest shining from on high.
The sky begins to roar And nature’s love unfolds,
World gets engrossed as his artistic
Hands play the sublime chords.
And when his aesthetic voice arises, One lands in a paradise.
Being with him is a perfect bliss, a dream come true.
A heaven on earth with all the shades of love.
His love is fierce as fire, tender as flower.
His love is as strong as the belief we have in each other.
His love is pure as virgin snow, gentle as breeze caressing the dew kissed rose.
His love is redemption, his love is the cure.