If love is blind then I can’t really see you,
And yet your words and deeds are everywhere;
Love could be a kind of maths, answer: two.

I was going to write a cliché about glue,
Or play on words where two fruits make a pair,
But if love is blind then I can’t really see you.

There is a school of thought that says love’s true
Like a sharpened knife or perfect shell of sky,
And love could be a kind of maths, answer: two,

Symbol for infinity, light of lovely hue.
Like nailing jellies high I shouldn’t try,
For if love is blind then I can’t really see you.

But I have to give my heart and head it’s due
And look this love thing deep into the eye,
For love is a kind of maths, answer: two,

And if my arm was twisted for a clue,
I’d say it’s a question, what, when, where, or why?
If love is blind then I can’t really see you,
It’s a kind of maths where the answer is always two.