She was wearing unthinkable amounts of truth:
truth on her dress,
truth on her scarf,
truth on her white striped shoes.
He couldn’t spell.
So miserable he felt,
he tried to preach the word,
asking the letters to wait and forgive
before committing to her signature.
She was wearing the truth with such easiness
that he couldn’t refrain
so, he started singing.
Lumină de ținut minte 