For her, I\'ve mastered delicately the prose
To talk with my hands, as an orchestra\'s director would compose
As if I conquer the wind and time completely froze
To every thread of the world, to whom she\'s being exposed.
I believe she touches colours, with the palm of her hand
And lends her ear far to hear, to the faintest sound of jazz
The cheeks burst with a smile to smells and tastes, sweet or bland
But walks past by, naively, by the hearbeat of this man.
How I wish for her to notice me someday, around the corner
To whisper as a blushing boy kisses and oh\'s of how I adore her
The world, seems walks in circles and forth, try to ignore her
Yet this here ol\' boy wishes nothing more, than escort her.
To scoop her in my arm and bask in her bouquet
Of spicy aromas and taste of sun, that she\'d take in from beautiful this day
And sting not her feelings for helping her, her senses play away
Oh! what senses must I trigger, for her to say my name?
Wretched she is not, merely because she\'s lost her sight
No smoother hands could describe the dark night, and how the day is bright
These streets turn a blind eye, still she smiles to them despite
For her senses run free with life, as her sight flies high as a kite.
Oh, how I\'ve fallen in love! and wish recognition, from such a dame
Though she doesn\'t owns her vision, I\'ve never felt so aflame
For she has noticed my presence, she\'s thrown a smile my way
Blind you may be, my fair lady, yet never we\'ve been more seen,
For you\'ve turned as I loudly called you and you smiled, as you called my name.