The Smile On Your Mouth Was The

To Dwellers In A Wood, Almost Every Species Of Tree Has Its Voice As Well As Its Feature.

We Colour And Mould According To The Wants Within Us Whatever Our Eyes Bring In.

And Yet To Every Bad There Is A Worse.

You Ride Well, But You Don't Kiss Nicely At All.

That It Would Always Be Summer And Autumn, And You Always Courting Me, And Always Thinking As Much Of Me As You Have Done Through The Past Summertime!