Be wary, be wary, be wary
that on the glimpse of an eye,
the 14th of February,
yours truly, myself, and I
will write the obituary
of who speak "Happy Valentine!".

Plan on loving and caring?
Are you willing to love and die
for those with you're sharing
smiles, chocolates and sighs?

Smiles, chocolates and sighs...
Are you really that blind?

Yes, to love is merry,
but just this once? I query.

All other days to comply,
no espectacle to carry.
Why now? Are you that shy
you need candy berries
to speak of yearn and cry?
How vaine, "How weary!".
You child with no pride.

Had enough of this wry?
You, this gift, don't like,
but empty hearts you invite?

From this you I'm saving,
of false love and caring.
Give on the first of February
or March or January,
and the gift I'm sharing
will be sweeter than cherries.

Wait for the flock to find
a void way to sell diary
and you'll have to bind
with dirty milk from Larry.

Gift from the heart and mind,
when it feels like the time,
and even just a note of "Hi!"
will value more than shine...

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