A bar and I bleed with out her

sometimes it's like as if we hadn't even of met... if twas for us lie sratched of feather, then alive like we know we've been tricked and for a moment you let me have a tussle at your mither in ya, tgen ever so, as if together in doing so, a quiver a quill, I sit... with her... I have nil..... no... good Sir... I know.... I'll have her forever.