The pride he feels from admiration grows.
A lofty grace for radiating all;
His warmth attracts, so brightly beautiful.
The friendly hands upon which kindness show.
The glowing smile that so many know,
An image of ourselves, once one so small.
Into his arms he’ll catch us if we fall.
A guide above to lovers still below.
But love of all does not make love of one -
The hearts of thousands flee when moon meets sun.
And who will hold you through the cocky nights?
An ego gone once someone blinds your lights.
An image of all not a person be:
The love from thousands is love not from me.
