I, my love, was skeptical too.
But there's something in the barman's practiced cool, the colour of the chlorinated pool.
Yeah, I do know just what you mean:
there's something in the folksy open fire that lends the air an aspect of desire.
You look at the open sea and give me a guarantee.
You're rarely overcome when faced with such a setting sun.
I don't like the taste of wine. I take it to clear my mind,
to fill my head with heady stuff and choose to wrongly read the rush.
You, renewed, are strange in this light.
There's something in the polished hand I hold ... I forget that hurtful truths were told.
I defy the part that I play.
Cocooned in this corner of the world, you forget my eye for other girls.
I look at the open sea and give you a guarantee;
a staging of a show that closed its curtains years ago.
"No need for tears", you say. "If there's a sign of pain,
or any issues that remain, we're holidaying here again."