She looks at him, and smiles. She watch him as he...
I’m not mad at you.
I’m mad at myself...
You could have seen her, in light skin and lean...
When she smiles, she would serene the storm...
I stare at this match,
its red tip - the color of my love for you...
Images of you deep in my heart--
Shadows form slowly...
The bosoms of swollen meadows
drizzles...
She cried for a little gingerbread
because its arm was missing...
Should Cupid pass, with hand and bow
I hope he’ll purge, my heart of woe...
I'm a fragile heart,
With a twisted mind...
Open your eyes,
Open your chest...
I'm a wreck in the head,
No need to pretend...
I hear you..
You’re ready now...