All the wonders on this fine earth,
And the glory of up above,
Are nothing compared to your sweet charms,
Or the beauty of your love
. The birds in springtime sing their song,
So sweetly and so pure,
But they cannot compare with your sweet words,
Of this you can be sure.
. . I was rubbing my breasts, rolling my nipples between my fingers
All the wonders on this fine earth,
And the glory of up above,
Are nothing compared to your sweet charms,
Or the beauty of your love
. The birds in springtime sing their song,
So sweetly and so pure,
But they cannot compare with your sweet words,
Of this you can be sure.
. . I was rubbing my breasts, rolling my nipples between my fingers
All the wonders on this fine earth,
And the glory of up above,
Are nothing compared to your sweet charms,
Or the beauty of your love
. The birds in springtime sing their song,
So sweetly and so pure,
But they cannot compare with your sweet words,
Of this you can be sure.
. . I was rubbing my breasts, rolling my nipples between my fingers
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