True love like a shiny fur of a mink,
so beautiful lyk a fair lady on pink,
perceive that which does not stink,
embrace and do not think,
I have not seen it for ages,
since i have been fliping through those pages,
the butterfly has been hovering round and round
hoping nectar would b found.
In this our honourable land, we smile while there is torture.
Rain dugs our cheek at early depature,
i forgot its an old culture.
Kirikiri is better than freedom,