Sooner or later, time tells of fortune and Destiny.
Twill tell of a morrow that’ll soon come.
Twill tell of a morrow that’d never be late.

Time,as though it ticks,
Spins fast with slow hands.
And keeps hammering;
That one thing’s expected of a man.

A child today begets another tomorrow.
Quick! Spin with time is the say.
“Make a home of yourself.
Time tells,of course,your blacks are turning grey”.

But with this have I consolidate my pieces.
That in the harvest of time
The real soulmate will be found and we shall together be sealed in love.

Hanging around will our hands be
Clutching our hips as waistbands.
Walking in twos as one,
Matching the lawn as one.

Oh what symbol of love!
Oh what pride twill be!!
Then we shall forever marry ourselves in matrimony.
And to men we shall live, charmed of love.