Take my book and mark it up,
Because even broken crayons color.
So don’t cover it up.
Hang it up on the wall for the world to see.
‘Cause their will always be haters,
Hating on you and me.
So as I lay my darling down,
Do not forget your golden crown.
A million kisses upon your head
I will love you and your flaws even when I am dead.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem