We are imprisoned in the realm
of life, like a sailor on his tiny boat,
on an infinte ocean.
O my Love's like a red, red rose
That's newly sprung in June;
O my Love's like the melodie
That's sweetly play'd in tune.
As fair art thou, my bonnie lass,
So deep in love am I:
And I will love thee still, my dear,
Till a' the seas gang dry:
Till a' the seas gang dry, my dear,
And the rocks melt wi' the sun:
I will love thee still, my dear,
While the sands o' life shall run.
And fare thee well, my only Love
And fare thee well, a while!
And I will come again, my Love,
Tho' it were ten thousand mile.
a r t . s t a t u s
》c l o s e d
》o p e n
》a s k m e
Coding (c) Chromlyte