My own Charlie,s Angel...

Irma, My Waussie,

One Cafe near the Champs Elysee, I sat there drinking old white wine. On a beautiful Parisienne sunny day, And I remember that she look so fine. And I'm looking to the stars for a long, long time. Watch at her photograph, Oh I could sent her pictures, About the old Provaince days. And a summer spent a lot outside on corners and cafes. The memories coming back to the heart rate, While I long to see her again so much.

Quiet waiting for the sweetest of my life, My flame of love for her still stands, Seemingly is that bonfire still there. I love her that she knows well, But sometimes I hate her too. Because there is no day that I don't think of her. Love is also deaf, I would tell her that I love her, And I want to show it also. But it feels like a blind man cries, And always behind his closed eyes the memory remains.

I kept the confidence, Carried her ever in my mind and heart with me. I have no special days to show my love to her. She will feel it every day, She,s always in my thoughts. Would it ever be a relief, That she too never had forgotten me. And otherwise look at me than she had ever imagined. I know you're not one of Charlie,s Angels.But I'm also not that Tough hunk of dynastie or so. But for you my angel,

Irma, My Waussie, I still wanna go...