He’s got the kind of eyes,
I couldn’t look aside.
He is the kind of guy people write poems about,
Enchanting eyes and a deadly smile.
His voice, a muse, no bird ever escaped by.
He’s got the eyes anyone would fall for.
And wet locks of hair on weekends,
The sleepy voice he talks in, gets any heart flying.
And when he sings, I lose my touch with reality,
Lost deep into his eyes, losing my sanity.
He’s got the kind of smile that would radiate the sun,
Embarrass the moon and make stars shy away.
He is the kind of guy people write books about,
Pretty eyes and a deadly smile.