I wish I were a Casanova, rummaging through the crowds of thousands faces till a gorgeous one meets the eye. Principally, it's not right. The older men look and sigh, while I, with my charming fashion would pass through the her skin and passions. I'd be more than what meets the eye, and I've got the hours of night to show her what I am made of. More than just a guy, maybe a man who knows the art. Aptly, I would treat her well, till the sound of the morning bell is ringing in her ears. She'd find my warmth but not the body, because I would be gone already. I wish I were a Casanova, shooting like a supernova through your blood and veins.
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