One too many a******s

If it is hell they speak of,
I have roamed a journey too long.
If it is a fairy tale love they are searching for,
I have lost my golden compass.

These days,
the maps no longer serve their purpose.
Our treasures are washed away, along with good old conscience.
Manly arms and linking lies.
A journey to the south, follows a forgettable heartbreak.

How queer. She interest me now.
That lady I see, with salt in her eyes.
A depression that matches mine.
I like what she sees.
If love is blind, please grant me sight.
grant her, me.

Set me free, if you will, hopeless romantic.
With the words you may whisper, so cliche and dramatic.
Prove to me, once more, with me.
That a rose still exist among the thorns.
Dear fugitive from mars,
Venus is where you belong.