Allow her, her sweet, noble lady time.
She's shy, easily hidden behind clouds.
If I took my seat beside her, her beauty would glorify my flaws.
The opulence of her gracefulness, like beggars riding horses of free wishes.
Found her on her usual scene, serving me poetic justice.
She orchestrates the mood of the night, unrehearsed.
So sweet what tales her light brings; History's own, history's very own concubine.
My destiny it must be to touch her beauty;
Indeed, I'll leave it all behind to explore great skies.
Wait a little let our noble lady get dressed.
I find a hobby in making guesses at her record best.
I never give it my best, truly.
Always standing in awe, amazed, devastated by her essence,
The brilliance and quality of her presence.
Her record best is a tale of the chicken and the egg; I can never decide
She has me dazed and hypnotized.
She's shy, noble, just doing her duty.
Honorary in the heart of history.
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