Romanticism has packed its bags, Blue flowers hide in shadowed drags. A tender gesture, a gaze that speaks, Today, it’s worth more than darkened streaks. We chase after artificial gleams, Forgetting the warmth of genuine dreams. A simple “I love you” has no price, Yet we say it so rarely, paying the ice. Simple love is the most beautiful kind, A kiss is not obscene to mind. Let’s restore the gray to its old hues, So the world may find childhood joys anew. Time slips by, and we forget, To hold hands, to truly connect. Sweet words become relics, rare, Though they could change everything with care. Simple love is the most beautiful kind, A kiss is not obscene to mind. Let’s restore the gray to its old hues, So the world may find childhood joys anew. And what if tomorrow we stopped running, Hiding our hearts behind walls of cunning? If every smile became an empire, If every tenderness healed our desire? Sincere gestures are worth more than gold, True words warm more than any hoard. Man has forgotten how to love, but can recall, That a tender gaze can rebuild it all. Simple love is the most beautiful kind, A kiss is not obscene to mind. Let’s restore the gray to its old hues, So the world may find childhood joys anew. Yes, the world must rediscover simple delight, And saying “I love you” become only right.
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