If for the love of you I cry.
Then I shall wave to world and die.
But before you be put in the past pen of me.
You shall return the golden jewel of yours.
That at least may end the unquenched fire of it.
That I may cry not will not.
For the joy has hast me in wrath.
Over the lied length of decade
To build our kiss life of arcade.
Choice be me than drive the next car of facade.